Resident Evil 1: Conspiracy
by CaidenWalker -shade1578
Summary: THE FINAL CHAPTER IS UP! Leon Kennedy is a member of S.T.A.R.S., and he goes to the mansion on that fateful night. It is there that something horrible takes over his body, and he is transformed into a nightmare no one could imagine.full summary inside
1. Ch 1: A Fresh Start

All that you think you know of Resident Evil, toss it to the winds. This is a story like none you've heard.

**Full Summary:** Leon S. Kennedy has just been reassigned to the secluded little town of Raccoon City as an official member S.T.A.R.S. He is reunited with his friend, Joseph Frost, and is soon acquainted with the famous characters both Jill Valentine and Chris Redfield. The town is a perfect place of a weekend getaway, or for a young cop to protect and serve in peace.

However not all is well in the little town, for something rotten and mysterious lurks in the surrounding forests. A dozen murders rattle the small town with both fear and grief, victims apparently being eaten alive.

The S.T.A.R.S. members are sent in to investigate the strange occurances...

_"and it turned into...a nightmare..." -Chris Redfield._

* * *

Prologue

June 8, 1998

Sara Bruttle took a deep breath of the cold morning air. That's how it always was in the summertime of Raccoon City, cold from the dusk until dawn. It never became humid; it was never hot, always cool or freezing. The sun was just rising over the tops of the massive pine trees, bringing its pink and yellow smile to greet her on her morning jog. Sara lived on the outskirts of town, so being able to jog in the forests was a nice source of relaxation for her. In fact she practically lived in the middle of isolation, the nearest gas station was a mile away from her house. She lived just off the high way, dead as usual in the morning. Across the road and behind her house was raccoon forest, a beautiful northern forest. Quiet, huge, and peaceful.

This time she thought it better to cross the road and jog along the old trail that wound around through the trees and sharp mountain hills in there. It was always peaceful, and the terrain along Marble River was beautiful in the morning. She loved how the sun reflected off the wet, smooth stones and soft waters at dawn. So she began her jog, hopping down from her front porch, down the long drive that would eventually lead to the small, two-lane highway.

Pink and red etched the outlines of clouds as shadows tried to hide from the rising sun. Her breath was visible as it puffed out in tight billows from her lips. She sighed as her muscles moved, each in a simultaneous bound that drove her swiftly down the dirt road. Massive pine trees overpopulated the others by far, and they all loomed over her as guards, watching over her. Sara loved nature; even in the blackest night she thought it was so beautiful. And she could not understand why someone would not fall for something so wonderful. Past her mailbox, she was soon crossing the deserted highway, and across the road she went. Over the gravel bluff, she bounced down into the forest floor, covered with pine needles and cones. The trail was just a few hundred yards up the base of this large hill. It wound around the small mountains of Raccoon forest, if you could call this place mountainous. More or less gargantuan hills, they didn't even rise above the tree line. Nevertheless it was lovely country.

As she paced up the steep hill she ran through her day, she would finish this jog; go to the store to get groceries for tonight. Oh she was so excited, tonight her boyfriend would return from his service in the army. She was ecstatic, so to the point that her running broke into a sprint, for four years he had been enlisted. Now he was coming home for good, no more two-week visits, for _good_. She ran faster, wanting to get rid of this big thick amount of time between now and eight o'clock tonight. Her muscles pumping, her veins and arteries flushing blood throughout her body, driving her up the hill as fast as she could run. She reached the path and jogged along its dirt trail, her pace slowing from slight fatigue.

She thought ahead, her mind pacing ahead of her. The path would eventually descend down into a valley, along Marble River before again dipping into the forest valley and trailing around the Spencer Estate. But she never went that far, she never went past the riverside. There was something ominous about the Spencer Estate, something that made the woods become corrupt and dark. She didn't know why, but whenever she came near to the grounds of Spencer Estate she always felt as though there was something wrong with it. As though it was not of this earth, something immoral to the extent of a nightmare. No, it was best if she stayed away from those grounds. So she jogged on, and eventually the path began to descend.

Soon she could see the river, sparkling and glimmering brightly in the morning sun. She was careful not to stumble and fall on the bumpy trail as it wound around the trees and rocks. She followed the path as it coiled around pine trees, finally becoming level along the bank of the river. The view was mesmerizing, as it always was. The path looped along the rocks for a ways, and she chased after it. Then her jog slowed to a swift walk, which soon depleted to a stand still. Her breath leaping in heavy gasps from her lips, her heart pumping, and her muscles quivering with energy as she stood. But she wouldn't jog any further, for ahead stood the beginning grounds of the Spencer Estate.

She couldn't see the mansion itself, but in the far distance there stood the black metal fence that enclosed the front lawn and massive garden, bound by vines and foliage. She had traveled down that road before, only to find the forest would become thicker and darker. Even in the broadest of daylight it cast shadows and darkness upon the forest floor. Hardly any pine trees grew there, no they had all been cut down with the estate first went up. Replacing these were strange, foreign plant life. Deciduous trees, that were low and widespread with branches, and some of the strangest plant life she had ever seen. It was as though it was straight from those comic books with the dark jungles. No, she had come to hate that place, the only source of nature on earth that she despised and feared. She turned back and sat down on a boulder next to the marble river for a moment, just to admire the sunlight. She sat there for a few minutes, thinking in partial anticipation about tonight. But it was time to go, so she stood and prepared for the jog back. But something stopped her from moving, a noise that rustled in the woods behind her. She turned around briefly, but saw nothing there, so she turned back and started to jog when a soft choking gasp came out from the woods.

She stumbled and spun around, looking back into the shadows of the woods beyond. Silence, then a hesitant stumble in the thick foliage and a soft moan.

She thought for a moment, should she call out? No, she should wait. It could be one of those guard dogs that had gotten loose from the estate again. Those things were ferocious. The last thing she needed was one injuring her, last time one of those got out and nearly killed her cat. Suddenly her thoughts were ceased as a figure leapt out of the foliage in the darkness. It was deep in that part of the woods, and Sara had no intention of going in there. It was a man, and she jumped back when he twitched violently and fell on the ground.

Oh no, she would have to go in. But…no…too scary. Oh that was ridiculous, and as the man suddenly let out a short cry in pain she knew she had no choice.

"Hang on, I'm coming!" she cried and quickly sprinted into the woods.

Her entire body began to shake as she entered the dark welcoming of the trees. As she approached him he began to violently spasm, clutching his head and ripping at his hair in agony. She reached him and stood frozen, staring at his wounds along his back and arms. In some parts it looked as though his skin had been…torn off. His muscle could be seen, and blood splattered out whenever he jerked. He was dressed in a white-collar shirt, and his tie was torn and hanging loosely from his neck. His black slacks were covered in dust and shiny blood, and his shoes were stained with crimson and a strange slime. It was a deep red and blackish green, and mucus like. She took a deep breath, trying desperately to think of some way to help the man. He rolled around on the ground, his glasses broken and cast aside.

"Okay, okay, Shhh," she said kneeling down beside him, "You'll be fine-"

"NO!" he roared, his voice deep and choking, blood gurgling from his red-stained teeth, "Run!"

"Sir, no, relax. You need help-"

"RUN!" he lurched up suddenly and hurled the black and red mucus from his throat, small pieces of organs smeared in with the puke.

He turned to her, his eyes wild and seeping blood, and he grabbed her by her tank top and wheezed, "Run before I get you!"

She stared, horrified at the black veins that ran along his face, his skin itself swelled up and red with infection of some kind. His breath seemed to snarl and wheeze, his hand was slimy and cold against her skin. He threw her away, the surprising strength forcing her onto her back and rolling to the side. Again he twitched and jerked, his arms and hands shaking and pulsing furiously. Then suddenly he stopped, letting out a final gurgling breath. He lay on his left side, his face away from her. His legs were cast out and twisted around, and his right arm was behind his back. Horrified and confused, Sara stood, her eyes all the while staring at the blood-covered mass. The only movement on his body was his hand, twitching softly. She tried to speak, her fear swept up in her voice and throat. But as she rose to her feet, she barely managed, "S-Sir? Are-are you all right?"

The man moaned and choked, suddenly coming to life as he rose on his arm and knees. He rolled back onto his feet, the shoulder and arm with all the blood hanging loosely while his other was crooked and hunched up. His head was cocked back and resting upon his hunched up shoulder. His back was facing her, and as he moaned with every breath he slowly stumbled around, limping to face her. His eyes were wide and pale; the blood stains no longer draining from their pores.

"…Sir?" she asked, taking a step back.

Suddenly the man roared, like nothing she had ever heard before. It was human, but it was as though it was deeper, hoarser, and barbaric. She took his heeds and turned to run, sprinting away. But a heavy smacking force from behind drove her to the ground, her face connecting with the dirt. A snarl and suddenly a terrible stinging pain drove into her shoulder and neck as the hot breath of the man showered her skin. She screamed and hollered in pain as the fangs broke her skin and peeled it back. She struggled, tears trickling from her eyes as she frantically moved to try and escape. Just then she felt the fingers dig into her muscles and tendons and scraped the nails along the tissue. The hot breath began running along her back, searching for a new place to sink into.

She shoved and struggled but the muscles were too powerful. Then she felt the hands suddenly squeeze at her ribs, and she cried as the bones began to crack. The teeth began to furiously bite at her arm, ripping at the muscle and the skin. Suddenly her skin was shredded back and her muscle exposed, the tendons slowly being ripped loose from her joints. Her bicep slunk away, spilling upon the ground with her skin and blood. Sara finally broke free and knocked the man thickly upon the skull with her elbow, breaking into a limping jog. Her foot had been twisted when the man landed upon her, though only now she felt the pain as she desperately limped down the trail. If she could just get away from the woods. If she could just escape into the sunlight-

She tripped and her eye socket and temple smacked into a lining of rocks, the skull cracking loudly in her ear and she knew nothing but blackness. Only sound and smell were with her, and soon the uneven, stumbling trot of her pursuer became clearer. He moaned softly, stopping.

"No!" she cried through tears, "Please don't! Please!"

But a powerful crunch snapped at her ribs and chest as the knees of the man slammed against her sternum. She coughed and wheezed for air, her heart pounding as the hot, repulsive breath billowed against her face and neck.

"No no no…" she whispered and pleaded.

The breath became hotter, the smell of cabbage and rotten meat flaring at her nostrils. She let out one final scream of protest as the teeth grazed against her esophagus and throat before her cry was cut short into a gurgling moan as blood filled her vocal cords and trachea.

Chapter One

July 23, 1998

Leon awoke slowly; his eyes clenched shut to refuse the morning sun. The alarm set off with incessant squawking that filled the quiet room. Despite how much he disliked it, Leon was an early riser; his alarm clock was only a back up. Not that it would have normally mattered, Leon had hated his damn job for it's entire existence in his life. After he had graduated from the academy, Leon thought that life as a police officer would be of thrill and excitement. Perhaps he should have listened to his friends when they told him frankly, "bull shit". He had been a cop for nearly a year and the most action he had seen was when a stoned kid tried to run from him. Well that's what you are needled to when you transfer to a town like Raccoon City. Nothing ever happens here. Of course it was much better then the incessant brutality of New York City, which was horror. Oh wait…no, that's right. He no longer was a cop. He had been promoted.

Why the hell had he been promoted? It had only been a year since he had been working as a cop. Oh yea, when the women's house was on fire. He had broken down the door when the firefighters wouldn't. They thought it was too dangerous. Hell if he gave a damn, you take a position of the law then your duty is to protect and to serve, no matter the risk. Even if…well…even if you _are _off duty. But that didn't matter. He had been promoted to S.T.A.R.S. now.

Yes, that's right. He was an elite member of the S.T.A.R.S. (special tactics and rescue service). Albert Wesker sought him out after he learned of what Leon had done, and personally saw the chief Irons to transfer Leon to his team. That's right, Leon was a S.T.A.R.S. member now. He was an elite officer of special task. He was…oh shit he was late!

Leon scrambled out of bed, wrestling with the sheets that tried to hold him back. Stumbling over dirty clothes, a ruffled throw rug, and his puppy, he made his way to his closet. He stretched his muscles into a white t-shirt, and sunk into a pair of jeans. It felt nice not having to wear that tight uniform, though he did miss the pride of wearing his badge right there on his chest. His black sneakers came next, followed by a lightweight, brown leather jacket. Raccoon city's summers were always a bit chilly in the mornings. Though as he drew the jacket from a hanger on the door he didn't hurriedly put this on, no; he proudly allowed it to envelope his shoulders and arms. Only it wasn't the jacket that he held in such high prestige, but what it contained. His wallet, and in that wallet was his badge. His badge…he always stopped to admire it for a moment. He was now a protector of this city, despite the diminutive amount of crime that stood against him. It was still something to fend off. He tripped out of his closet and stumbled over his puppy yet again.

"Sorry, Argus," said Leon as the little golden retriever groaned, "I'll be back tonight."

No time for a shower now, not that it mattered. They had a locker room in the station; he could snatch a quick one there if he needed it. It's not that they set an exact time for him to be in every morning, his shifts were constantly changing. But today was important; the chief was calling most of the station in for a meeting at eight-thirty. Showing up late would look bad.

Leon walked out into the chilled main room of his studio apartment, the icy morning air eating to his bones. It was dim as always, he had a knack for conserving electricity. Leon sighed to shake off the last feelings of sleep as he passed the couch and paced into the kitchen. As he prepared the puppy's breakfast for the day, he eyed the digital numbers on the stained microwave. Eight-ten. Damn it, still late. He tripped over one of the multi-colored chew toys, the squeak whistling out into the quiet room as he set the bowl of kibbles down. The noise sounded of scrambling of fuzzy paws as the puppy scampered into the main room, slid across the wood floor, and bounded into the kitchen. Leon patted the dog on the head as he stepped out into the room, and snatched the report files on the table. Oh crap, he had forgot to read them. Man, he was really screwing up. Oh how could anyone be so ignorant on the first week of his or her job? With superhuman skill and stupidity, that's how.

He snatched his gun holster and shoulder strap that hung on the coat stand, though he did it with regret. The only downside about being a hero and protector of the law, he had to do it with a death-dealing machine. Leon was never a big fan of guns, but whatever works to keep the innocent safe. Leon yawned and walked out of the apartment, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him. And of course, the hallway was warmer then his frigid apartment. He rolled his eyes at the owner's conception of comfortable temperatures as he swiftly walked down the narrow hall. He made sure his wallet was in his jacket, his keys were securely in his pant's pocket, and his hair was not too tossed around. His stomach snarled at him and seemed to shake its fist in anger that he had not stuffed it.

Oh well, he could grab a light breakfast after the debriefing. There were a couple of vending machines just outside the briefing room. Oh yes, the wondrous taste of salted peanuts and half melted chocolate. Be still, beating taste buds.

Leon stepped out into the brilliant morning sun and walked towards his jeep. No more squad car, how good it was to have no squad car. The beautiful, perfect, Raccoon City greeted him with the sounds of children's laughter blessing summer, and dogs barking in the distance. Aside from some of the asshole kids that ran around, it was a good little get away spot. Secluded in the mountains, there wasn't another city for miles. And only one small two-lane highway ran up to this small town. Of course, now it was more of a city then a town. Leon did like it better as a town; he used to visit this place as a child with his parents. It was there weekend getaway. But then, a few years ago that Umbrella Corporation came along. They took this place and manifested it into what it was, a city. Though, Leon supposed he lived now in a decent part of the town. The Trask district, white-collar area, a harmless park a few blocks away where he'd walk Argus. Good city, he enjoyed looking after it.

Leon slipped into his jeep and ignited it to life, revving the engine. Suddenly the radio blared into his ears, squawking at him with the annoying local DJ, Razlo on 93.6 the _Shocker_. Leon's fingers scrambled for the volume knob and twisted it down until it clicked off. He hated when he would hear a good rock song then forget to turn the volume down before he switched off the engine. And being verbally attacked in his eardrums by Razlo was no better. Asshole, some of the sick things that perverted freak had conversations about just made Leon wonder why this town hadn't fallen from its charm and innocent lifestyle.

Leon reared out of his parking space and swerved out into the calm street, trying desperately to win against time. His groaning stomach complained but he ignored it, he could not be late. Well gee, perhaps he should've thought of that when he spent the previous thirty minutes in his bed? Man, he had to stop being such a lazy ass.

Jill Valentine pulled into the rear parking lot of the police station at eight-fifteen. She slowly turned her little car into the rows reserved for S.T.A.R.S. members. It was somewhat pleasant to be treated with such high regard at times. Ever since she had transferred from a previous special tactics force to the S.T.A.R.S. here in Raccoon City she and her fellow teammates were treated with such tall respect. At times it was amusing, but at others it was a little eccentric, even ridiculous. After all they hardly did anything most of the time, nothing more then train and perform the dangerous task of filing papers and studying documents and cases. The S.T.A.R.S. teams were almost like back up, a special item to use when a case was too difficult for the regulars. Jill pulled into a space beside Barry Burton's bright red truck, from which Barry was just getting out. Her little corolla was nothing compared to the massive pickup, she couldn't even see past it as she parked upon its right side. What a manly man car, way too macho. But that was Barry for you. The man went crazy for guns, muscles, and trucks. Only Barry's typical macho personality could be so predictable. Then again, he was astonishingly kind, very gentle; a family man. Oddly enough she and Barry were good friends, Jill just didn't like his big ass truck.

Jill stepped out of her little blue car and smiled at Barry as he pulled out some rusted metal box from his car.

"Mornin' Jill," he hollered through his beard, digging around on the passenger side of his truck.

"Morning Barry," she said coming around to his side, "What showcase do you have for us today?"

Barry smiled. He always had a new firing arm to display for the whole police department. That was Barry, very social in some of the strangest ways.

"Oh I nice piece," said the middle-aged man slamming the door of his truck, "It's the latest addition to my collection. I call it the Colt Python Elite. Which is…its actual name."

He opened the metal box to reveal the silvery chrome shaft and brown handle of the massive handgun. A box of its powerful .357 slugs sat next to it in a padded casing. Jill didn't necessarily like guns, despite the fact that she could recognize most of them and was well aware of each series' capability. But Barry did have partial reason to be proud over his new toy. The Colt Python elite was a trusty revolving magnum. Too sluggish for Jill, she preferred the HK VP 70, it was small and fast, and carried larger quantities of rounds. Nevertheless, she viewed a gun as a tool and not a hobby.

"Wow, looks…" said Jill searching for the right word, "Uh, menacing."

"I _know_. Wait until Chris and Joseph see it, they'll get a kick out of it."

It seemed as though the words of his old pal triggered the distant roar of Chris Redfield's motorbike down the street from the station. The roar of the softail grew and grew, and Jill's gaze turned to meet it as the bike barreled into view. Chris Redfield, one of the picture-perfect members of S.T.A.R.S. He was strong, one of the best marksman, handsome, suave, classy, and to be honest kinda phony. Jill liked him though; he had been a good friend to her. They were pretty close, always joking around. She supposed Chris made working here easier; he certainly worked to keep some of the perverts here away from her. He seemed to be a good person, no bad intentions. He had a younger sister who he took care of; she was away at college now. He was working two jobs to see to it that she got through with tuition okay. As Chris swung in on the other side of Barry's truck Jill smiled. She had always wanted to get a little closer to Chris, but her job was too important. A relationship would get in the way.

Chris quieted the roaring engine of his softail and stepped off the bike, wearing his typical black leather jacket, jeans, heavy black boots, and his full faced black helmet. He took it off and set the helmet down on the bike's seat with a grin (he didn't have to worry if it would be stolen or not, Chris was respected here, as was everything of his).

"Good morning, you two," he said stepping up upon the sidewalk to join them.

"Hey Chris," replied Jill.

Chris Redfield. He was the one guy who wasn't too macho or too suave…at times. She liked that about him.

"Hey Chris, check out the colt python elite," said Barry with magnificent manly pride.

"All _right_, you got it?" said Chris becoming coolly excited.

Just how the hell can you be coolly excited, anyway? Only Mr. Smooth a.k.a. Chris Redfield could pull that off. For two years she'd known him he had yet to break into any emotion beyond his calm and collected limit.

While the two hovered in their macho wonder at the deadly magnificence, Jill drew her gaze elsewhere. It was strange, she realized, as she noticed Albert Wesker's parking spot was unoccupied. Albert was never late, on the contrary he was extremely early, his labeled space seemed to never be vacant. Jill brushed away the thought and looked at her watch, eight-nineteen. Plenty of time until the meeting started, after all the room was just inside the doors. Her eyes were resurrected from her watch towards her two teammates after she heard a humored, almost pesky voice call out, "Chris, you fuckin' _ass_. You'd said you'd help me with filing the goddamn papers."

Joseph Frost. The blonde, curly haired teenager-in-a-man's-body hopped down the front steps of the station to meet his friends. Everyone's typical clown who was armed with beer and the knowledge of swear words. Joseph brought swearing to an entirely new level, an art form. It was miraculous how many curse words he could fit into one sentence, but keep it in tact so that its delicate meaning remained.

"Aw, my bad, Joseph," said Chris shrugging, "I got a call from Claire this morning. She had just broken up with her boyfriend. Sorry pal."

"What the fu-…Claire's single?"

Claire Redfield, Chris' younger sister. She was very sweet and intelligent. She and Jill got along well whenever she came to visit her brother. And Joseph, his key interests being women, was always looking for a date from both her and Jill.

"You keep far away from her, pal," said Chris pointing a finger at Joseph, "Last thing she needs is a horn dog like you begging at her feet."

"Ah shit, Chris. You know I'm just playin' around. But still god dammit show up next time I fuckin' ask you."

"All right."

Joseph ambled up next to the three of them and lit a cigarette.

"Joseph, you smoke too much," said Barry, "You need to stay in shape."

"Says the guy with the gut," Joseph snickered at his own crack until Barry knocked him a soft one on the arm, "Fuckin' ow, man."

"Least I have some muscle, pipsqueak," said Barry with a chuckle.

"So do you guys know what this meeting is about?" inquired Jill, piercing the light conversation with the needle of important occupation.

"No," said Chris, "But it's probably about those bizarre murder cases up in Raccoon forest. You all hear about those?"

"No," said Joseph.

Typical Joseph Frost.

"A little," replied Barry, "I thought there was only one."

"No," said Chris, his phony perfect grin slipping away from his face, "Some families were attacked as well. They haven't released it to the news yet because frankly…chief Irons has no idea what's going on."

"Psh, yea that's new," said Joseph sarcastically.

"No kidding," replied Chris.

"Well then why doesn't Wesker know anything about it?" asked Jill.

This question silenced the group. Normally Wesker is on top of every case, always allowing the S.T.A.R.S. members to hear what he has heard to keep them awake and ahead of the regulars (the other police). But as for the case about the numbers of mangled bodies in Raccoon Forest, Wesker hadn't said anything. Just then a muffled yet blaring rock song entered Jill's ears as a jeep emerged from down the street.

"It's our little rookie," said Barry jokingly.  
"His name is Leon, dude," said Joseph, "_Leon_."

Joseph and the rookie were good friends; apparently they had known each other since academy. Jill was amazed anyone could be so tolerant of Joseph's behavior, but this rookie pulled it off. She thought at first that he was probably an asshole similar to that of his friend. But actually the young guy seemed decent. Fresh out of the academy, he wasn't much older then Chris' sister. He was quiet, kind, and polite. However, the rookie had almost no self-confidence. It was pretty funny to see him beat Chris in the fifty-yard dash, even if Leon kept denying it. Of course, he also beat Chris at the hundred, two hundred, even the mile run. In fact, the kid hadn't lost at anything he and Chris had competed together in, at least not physically.

Leon rolled in across the parking lot from where they were, the loud music dying as he quieted his engine and stepped out. Yea he may have been a little cute, but still not like Chris. Oh not that Jill was looking, in fact right now she was enjoying the single life spectrum of "not caring". The rookie attempted to cross the street to them but threw himself back when a cop car whizzed by swiftly and called out, "Watch it!"

"What the hell was that shit!" cried Joseph.

"It's that asshole, Tayler. He didn't make the S.T.A.R.S. like our little rookie did," replied Barry, "He's kinda holding a grudge."

"Apparently. _Poor little rookie_," murmured Chris.

"Dude, it's _Leon_."

The rookie crossed the street, his hands in his pockets, his eyes nervously moving from the ground to the members of the alpha team. Jill felt obligated to be the nicer one to the poor guy, seeing as how no one else was. She smiled at him, and was about to say good morning when Joseph hopped forth and said in the most hypocritical sense possible, "Morning, rookie."

"Shut up, Joseph," said Leon quietly with a half smile, "You know I hate that."

"Yea I know," said Joseph, the two of them slapping and firmly grasping hands in some weird 'high-five' thing.

Too macho manly. But at the same time Jill couldn't help but notice something different about Leon. She couldn't quite tell, but he seemed somehow unique to the others. Like he didn't really fit in with them.

"Morning, Leon," said Chris punching him lightly in the shoulder, "Way to kick my ass yesterday in the mile."

"And every other run," Joseph teasingly reminded.

Leon smiled and looked down at his shoes, "Yea well, I don't know I guess I practice too much. But I could never beat you at marksman."

Barry smiled and said, "Oh no. Chris has been the best since we first were stationed here. But keep trying like I am, maybe we'll beat him, probably not. Oh, Leon. I thought you might like to see this."

And the Colt Python was again revealed. Leon and Joseph leaned in close with curiosity, but Jill noticed Leon wasn't all that interested. He leaned back and turned his gaze to her for just a swift second. She smiled and he barely managed to reply with a minute grin before turning away. Way too nervous, was she really that intimidating?

"Yea…I prefer my sweet ass shotgun," said Joseph, always being critical.

"Oh you would," joked Barry, "Always carrying that big sluggish thing, I wonder how you can maneuver with that all the time."

They were all silent, staring at Barry in puzzlement.

"I'm the only one carrying sluggish weight? Man I wonder the same damn thing about you," said Joseph eying Barry's stomach.

Barry let out a deep laugh. Nothing could offend him. Jill noticed Chris as he looked over for a moment and his eyes widened.

"Damn, it's Wesker," he said in a cool panic, "Quick, look busy!"

Albert Wesker, the commander and overseer of Alpha team in S.T.A.R.S. He was Barry's age, thirty-eight, though he looked nothing like it. Dressed in all black, he always wore aviator sunglasses; his blonde hair always slicked back. The 'cool' guy: always calm and watchful, always keeping an eye on everything. Yet at times he could be kind, like an icy fatherly figure. But most of the time he was there to keep the alpha team from slacking off (somewhat of a hard thing to do). As he stepped up onto the pavement Joseph started the "serious" conversation, "So uh, wh-what do you think did those uh…murders in the woods."

"You mean the families and what not in Raccoon Forest?" asked Chris, with ringing phoniness, "I don't know. I assume it was some sort of cult or something."

Wesker sauntered by and said calmly, "Relax, I know you're not talking about work."

They all seemed to drop in relief, except for Leon who looked around in a lack of understanding. Jill watched him turn over his shoulder and look at Wesker, turn back then again take a look. He said politely, "Morning, sir."

Everyone else in the group winced. Wesker stopped and turned around, "Rookie, Leon right?"

The young man looked frozen solid, trying to figure out the mistake he had made. You never ever call Wesker "sir". It out rightly infuriated him.

"Uh, yes sir?"

"Don't call me sir, Leon. I'm your equal; I just make sure you're doing your job. Got it?"

"Yes si-…uh yea."

"Good," and with that, the tall, muscular Wesker disappeared into the building. Leon sighed, but was mortified when Wesker's head popped back out and said, "And nice job smothering Chris' ass in the mile yesterday."

The tall man disappeared, and signaled an uproar of laughter. Chris laughed the loudest, not surprising. Another thing she kind of liked about Chris, just how well he took things. Unless they were negatively put about his sister or his friends, then he wasn't too happy.

Joseph cracked up as he desperately tried to imitate Leon, "Oh uh…well…uh-um…yes si-er…yea."

Barry chuckled and Chris smiled, folding his arms upon his chest. What a macho show off. Joseph continued to laugh like a hyena.

"Shut up, Joseph," said Leon smiling.

"You…loser…you are such a kiss ass," said Joseph through his gradually subsiding hysterics.

Jill somewhat put her fingers to her mouth as she tried not to laugh. It was pretty humorous to see someone like Leon cowering before Wesker. Honestly, Leon was in much better shape then the skinnier Wesker, and it's not that he had anything against him. Poor Leon, he was just younger then they all were. What was it…twenty-one? Twenty? Wesker actually seemed to be somewhat proud of the man's records. First rate in everything at the academy, his specialties lying in fitness and physical training. And not just that, but he had some thought process alive and working upstairs. Unlike some of the other muscle heads she was working with, it was almost repulsive to hear some of their vocabulary. Leon was intelligent, and it showed.

"Come on, kiddies," said Barry, "Meeting's about to start and I want some coffee 'fore we go in. I can't stand Chief Irons boring speeches without coffee, I pass right out."

They all shuffled into the large, glass front doors.

"Yea I can understand," said Joseph flicking away his cigarette, "But with the police station's coffee? You fuckin' pansy. That weak shit will more likely put your fat ass into hibernation then wake you up."

"What would you prefer, hard liquor at eight fifteen in the morning?"

"No, that's at eleven."

"Joseph, I don't know how you hold this job," said Chris.

"What? All I'm saying is a nice cup of black coffee from Emmy's diner. Chris and Leon? You suckers can't cook; you eat there every night. Am I right?"

"Yea sure, Joseph," said Leon.


	2. Ch 2: The Victims

Chapter Two

Rebecca Chambers had arrived way too early, as usual. She was always too early; Enrico was always kidding her about it. _Too eager to please,_ he always said. In fact, she received crap from just about every one of her teammates from Bravo team. Geez, even Chris and Joseph from the Alpha team gave her crap. She was the rookie of the group, and had been for a month. Well, the harmless taunting had depleted somewhat ever since that new cute guy arrived. What was his name? Leon? Yea, Leon Kennedy. Pretty cute, and he seemed just as eager to please as she did. He wasn't much older then she was, maybe twenty or twenty-one. So why didn't he get any crap about it? Well, probably because he creamed Chris in just about every sport there was. And Chris was in top physique.

Rebecca sat in the office room of the Bravo S.T.A.R.S. team, separated by a thin wall from the Alpha team. She was plopped at her desk, reading a very good book because she had finished all of her paperwork on the previous case. Not that it was any difficulty; she hardly had to do anything at all. Just some teenagers in a stupid little cult. But when they had kidnapped one of their friends it had become somewhat serious, and of course Bravo was sent in first. Not that Rebecca had to do anything all that exciting, but it was pretty humorous to sneak into the house from the back and scare the kids shitless. Who was she to call them kids? She was only eighteen. Thanks to her melon head (her name granted by Joseph, what a smart ass) she had graduated med school at a quick pace. This made her parents extremely proud, until she decided to look for action and excitement in the S.T.A.R.S. force. Great idea, Rebecca, it sure is high times filing papers on stoner kids. Rebecca let out a light sigh as she closed the mystery novel she was constantly failing to show attention to.

Nothing ever went down a path of action, at least not since she had joined. But Chris and Barry were always talking about "that time when" etcetera etcetera. Actually, being a member of the S.T.A.R.S. wasn't all that bad. Decent pay, but she was somewhat respected because of her skill with chemicals and medicine. Although Kenneth Sullivan, her fellow teammate, was better with chemistry, she topped him and everyone with the faithful art of medicine. The medic of the S.T.A.R.S. force, not too shabby. Still, she wasn't Jill Valentine. Jill was kind, if you were a girl. But she didn't give the guys an easy time. Especially Joseph and Chris. Well of course not Joseph, he was always hitting on her. And Chris, Chris was kind of a sweet heart, but a tough guy at the same time. Personally, Rebecca kind of liked him. But that's what was to be expected according to Enrico; Chris was the regular Mr. Slick. The smoothie. Enrico was kind of suspicious of Chris and Barry; he always thought they were after his job. Kind of paranoid, but still a cool boss. And he was definitely not as paranoid as Chief Irons. What a creep, Rebecca didn't like him at all. It was an intuition thing, but she just could never feel any respect nor any trust towards him. She fidgeted with her white T-shirt, and was starting to feel the urge to open the book once more when the door to the offices opened. She heard footsteps and looked up right on time to see the door to the Bravo team's room open, and Brad Vickers pop his head around the wooden door.

"Hey Rebecca," he said smiling quietly, "Have you been hear most the morning?"

Everything he did was quiet, not necessarily meaning he didn't make much noise. Just quietly, not gently nor was it timidly. He was very calm and straightforward. Not really all that nervous unless he got in action, then he became a trembling body of panic. Brad was not all that athletic, but he was pretty smart, not to mention he was one damn good driver and pilot.

"Oh, no I arrived just a few minutes ago," she said, trying to avoid being teased again.

"Oh, okay…well the briefing's going to start soon, the teams are already down there."

"Okay thanks."

"Yea," he barely let out as he was already hiding back behind the door to close it.

Well, time to go. She hopped up out of her seat, her sneakers squeaking against the tile floor of the room. Hopefully this next case would be exciting, unlike most of those by the creepy chief Irons. But alas, it would probably drip with languor.

000

As it turns out, the meeting was far from dull or boring as most of the S.T.A.R.S. members had expected. Most of them filed into the room along with the regulars. Bravo and Alpha team had two rows in the front assigned specifically for them, most to their dislike, but it was routine. Two groupings of olive green chairs and fake wooden desks, twenty or so rows of them, covering the black and white tile floor. A small platform made of wood rose at the opposite wall of the doors to the briefing room. An overhead sat there, the ancient piece of junk sat collecting dust most of the time. Hardly was there a case so severe that every officer had to be called to the briefing room. Not in the peaceful town of Raccoon City, one big tourist attraction. All of this was funded by the famous Umbrella Corporation. Umbrella was behind almost every product or business in the city. That's what people like Chris and Jill despised, they preferred the mom and pop joints like Emmy's diner.

The crowds grouped together in their small cliques, occasionally transferring looks or simple phrases across to one another. It was not long before the heavy set chief Irons set foot into the room from a back door of the briefing room with several files beneath his arm, along with a reel of film in the other. Without being ordered the officers all sat down, the S.T.A.R.S. lining the two front rows. The chief did not speak a word as he set the files down on a desk at the front of the room, and quietly hitched the role of slides to the overhead (having some difficulty). This is what first gave the officers the impression that something was not right. In a usual situation the chief would waltz in, barking orders at them and telling them to shut up. He was a bit of a control freak, and was constantly abusing his power and dangling it above others, but not this time. This time he seemed somehow torn…almost disturbed.

Leon, who sat between Joseph and Rebecca, had just finished his water when Joseph softly punched him in the arm.

"Hey, what's goin' on," he asked, as if Leon would know.

Leon shrugged and looked at Rebecca who was just as baffled. A long pause took place, in which the chief looked over the papers in his hands. He seemed to be hesitating, as though he himself could not entirely grasp or believe what was before him. At length he spoke.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat through his moustache and began in his gruff, quaky tone, "We have received reports from highway patrol of nearly two dozen murders that have taken place along highway ten, all in Raccoon forest. Several houses were attacked, three of them were owned by families."

The room was dead quiet, every pair of eyes focused upon the chief, and every mind was surprised. Two-dozen murders, in the Raccoon district. It was almost unheard of; they barely had two-dozen murders per year. Irons pushed down the heavy button of the overhead, and a loud clank sounded out as a dim white screen showed against the white wall.

"Lights," he said, and an officer stood to flick the switches off.

As the room dimmed, Leon adjusted, curious as to what this new case was. Nearly two-dozen murders? How long were they spread out? The entire room questioned it.

Irons clicked a little metal device he had in his hand, and the first picture appeared, quivering into place. The entire room froze, several gasped and whispered but other then that shallow noise there was nothing but cold, dead shock. Jill clapped her hand to her mouth and turned for a second to Chris, sitting next to her. Chris looked at her then at Barry, and back at the screen with an uneasy stare. It was a picture of a living room. Just a couch and a hard wood floor partially covered by an oval shape rug. But there was something upon that rug, which at first gave them difficulty at making out what it was. Then it became apparent. Then it became horrendous, then sick. A dead child, not more then three maybe four years of age. His limp, chubby body lay twisted upon the floor. He was on his stomach, in torn overalls, and one of his arms was thrown out before his head, the palm facing up. His other arm had been partially torn off, shreds of flesh and muscle desperately holding it in tact. His face could not be seen, hidden by his body and the angle at which the picture was taken. Blood surrounded him, and there were dozens of puncture wounds on his arms and bare legs, his back seemed to be ripped entirely open, the red-stained bone blending in with the muscle and tissue.

His wasn't the only body in the picture. What appeared to be his mother lay beside him, a majority of her body out of the picture but her arm, head, and chest revealed. Her fingers were barely touching the leg of her baby, as though she had tried to reach him but had failed. Several chunks of flesh and tissue were taken from along the pale arm of the mother, and her head was cast back and staring directly into the eyes of everyone in that room. Wild and almost entirely white, from one of her frenzied eyes trickled blood, and they seemed to be tears. Her throat had been torn out, organs and pieces of bone and flesh lay strewn about her. Her blouse had been ripped open, revealing her mangled and ravaged chest. Her ribs exposed, stabbing through part of the dress that still remained, the rest of its material was soaked in with her innards.

Blood was sprayed and washed up against the couch; its pillows and cushions turned over and soaked in the scarlet liquid that showed as only blackish fluid through the black and white picture. In the shadows of the far corners of the room, a man sat against the wall. His head hung, and not much of him could be seen except his blood stained slacks and plaid shirt. Blood was dripping from his broken glasses that had reflected the light of the picture, as well as from his lips. Everything was undistinguishable by the shadows, but it was clear that he was soaking in a vast puddle of his own blood.

Rebecca's lower jaw quivered as everything she saw washed through her mind as pollution to her thoughts. She looked briefly at Leon who was just as astonished as her, his emerald eyes searching hers as though he could find something to say. He wanted to, but there was nothing. He turned to Joseph, whose jaw was completely dropped, his furious gaze unable to be taken away from the glowing image. Chief Irons began to debrief, "All that we know is they were attacked sometime at dawn on June the twenty fifth. But it was nearly four days until they were found, we can only guess. They lived in a cabin just off the highway in Raccoon forest. Judging by the tracks around the house, there were numerous attackers, they allegedly forced their way in through the windows. The doors, however, remained untouched until the bodies were discovered. There were two other victims, an eighteen year old male and a ten year old female, both found dead in the bathroom."

The click of the slide sounded and echoed throughout the room, and all went black for just a second before another image appeared on the screen. It was the other two victims. The image burst out at them, injecting horror into their veins. Jill whipped her head around and looked away, not wanting to see anymore. Chris just sat there, his eyes wide and his hands made into fists. He had seen death, but never had he looked upon anything so disgusting and wrong. He didn't think one officer in here had seen anything so vivid.

The shower curtain of the bathroom had been partially ripped loose; blood had been wiped against its plastic sheet. Bloody hands and blotches were smeared upon the tile walls; puddles were spilled upon the floor. A pool of blood was in the bathtub, which is where the male lay. His body twisted, his neck had been broken and his head hung at an impossible angle to the side. The little girl was balled up in the sink as though she had been compressed or pushed down, crushed into herself. She was washed in her own blood and bits of flesh.

Chief Irons did not look at the slides, only at his feet with swift glances raising to the audience once and a while.

"The uh…" he stumbled, searching for the information as he swam through his disgust, "These two received severe beatings before they were killed. No appearance of weapons, we believe it was done by hand and fingernails. This is just one family that was attacked, there were several others as well as victims who were alone. No victims have been found alive."

He began to show them more and more images, each as grotesque or more horrible then the previous. After the second slide, many of them had simply refused to look at the screen, some even left the room. Amongst those was Joseph, although it was by rage instead of repulsion. Outside he could be heard swearing and on the verge of tears. Despite the ignorant humor and mind Joseph possessed, he had always possessed a soft spot for children.

An image of a wrecked vehicle, the victims had been maimed and ripped apart before they crashed. A jogger along the Marble River, she had apparently washed down a ways before some locals found her. More houses, an elderly lady who was walking through the forest, crumpled mountain flowers still lay in her bloody hand. Finally the images stopped, and the lights came back on, however the darkness lingered in the room. No one spoke, no one looked at one another any longer, they were all quiet. Irons looked about and said finally, "The victims have only two things in common. First, is that they all revolve around the area of the Spencer Estate mansion. Secondly is that…is…that each victim was apparently eaten, before and after death."

It seemed there was no limit of excruciating disgust and aversion to this case. The entire room remained silent, no one speaking nor moving. In fact, most people found it difficult to even breathe.

"We have also lost all communication with the Spencer Estate, and we believe it has something to do with this. A possible assumption is that a cult has taken refuge in the Estate, striking at possible victims whenever they feel the necessity."

Finally someone spoke, an officer.

"What should we have anything to worry about? It's the highway's jurisdiction."

Some of the others agreed, but most stayed silent.

"Shut up Billy, you maggot," barked the chief, "This is too big for the highway. They request that we send the S.T.A.R.S. forces in."

Rebecca went cold, her body nervous and weak as the words sunk in. She wanted a case of excitement but this was horrendous. This wasn't a case it was a nightmare. The Spencer Estate was big, and everyone knew the man that owned it had powerful defenses to keep any unwanted presence away.

"Then why are we here?" inquired another officer, "Why do we need to see this shit?"

"Shut your damn mouth Davis! I'll have you night watching candy stores if you don't squeeze back in line. The highway asked that every officer be notified to keep watch over the city. If you see anything suspicious, drag 'em in. And there's another interesting figure to this case, Davis. Each new attack is steadily growing closer to the suburbs of this place. That reason enough for you to cram your duty up your ass?"

Most the officers here lived in the suburbs. Barry became uneasy, looking around nervously. He and his family lived in the suburbs just on the outskirts of the town.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is one of the worst cases Raccoon City has seen. We have no idea how big these attackers are or their capability. Keep on your guard. Everyone is dismissed except the S.T.A.R.S. I want to speak to you all."

The rest of the officers stood and silently filed out, not quite sure what to say. Some of those that Leon knew patted him on the shoulder. One named John even whispered "Good luck with this, buddy." Leon was frightened, sure, his first case as a S.T.A.R.S. member and it just happened to be one of the worst he's ever seen or heard of. However it was like his grandfather would say: Bravery wasn't lack of fear, bravery was only accepting fear and using it.

Chief Irons stared all thirteen members down, looking at each of them as though he thought what he said would be important. No one there really respected him or even liked him; even Leon found it difficult. The man was always rude, cruel, not to mention he yowled at them and needlessly ordered them about frequently. Finally he spoke, after several minutes of pointless scanning.

"Marini," he barked.

"Yes sir?" Enrico calmly replied.

Enrico Marini was the leader of Bravo team, just as Wesker was of Alpha team. Enrico was a good leader. Everyone held him in high regards. He always made sure his members were all right, always ensuring their safety. He and Barry were good friends, and had been long before they joined the force.

"I want you to take the S.T.A.R.S. chopper and head up to the Spencer Estate tonight at two O hundred hours. Don't land anywhere near it, I don't want any suspicions drawn towards the people living there if there's nothing to be assumed. Investigate the surrounding area; some of those caves up there, maybe. I want this case shut down as soon as possible. We can't afford any more homicides. I want you leaving tonight, so get your men ready."

Asshole, thought Rebecca. Did she look like a man?

"That's all," he finished, and collected the files and slides to give to the Enrico.

"Wait a minute, sir," said Chris.

"What is it, Redfield?"

"Maybe both teams should go," he replied, "If there are numerous subjects, wouldn't it be better if both teams went to increase the chances?"

"Damn it Redfield, no! I can't send both teams in because I need your team back here in case anything else happens."

A bull shit excuse. Chris knew it was a very bullshit excuse. Although Chris had no idea why. What could possibly be holding Irons back with this? As far as he could see: nothing. He glanced at Wesker who looked at him through his dark sunglasses and solemnly shook his head. Irons certainly was not very professional. Chris knew that tactic-wise the two groups should move together. But he couldn't argue any further, he couldn't afford another suspension.

The S.T.A.R.S. members silently watched Irons saunter out of the room and slammed the heavy wooden door behind him. As soon as it echoed throughout the debriefing room, the group's stiffened positions drooped with sighs.

"Jesus, what a prick," said Joseph standing up, "I can't believe he cut us out of going on that mission."

"Can it, Joseph. If I had my way you'd be shipped off out there and not me," replied Forrest Speyer, the vehicle and weapons specialist of bravo team.

"Enough chatting, we have to do it let's just do it," cut in Enrico, "I want my team ready and awake. Get something to eat, get some sleep, but we're leaving at eight."

The S.T.A.R.S. members filed out of the room, most of them still quieted by the case itself.

000

Chris sat at his desk in the S.T.A.R.S. offices, looking over a copy of the reports and images he photocopied from Enrico's. He was alone, Bravo team was preparing to leave and his own team was elsewhere. He read descriptions of the wounds and deaths, quotes from those that found the bodies. Slowly he became accustomed, if not immune to the horrendous images that plagued his mind. Nevertheless they disturbed him, not entirely the images of the dead men, no. No…the images of the women and children, both for whom he carried a soft spot. What kind of merciless soul could do this to a child and feel no remorse? He looked over each of the photos taken, hunched over in the dim light of his desk. It was the only light in the room, he wanted it that way because it kept him focused, drawing his attention to where the light shone. He came across the description of a dead infant, not older then five months. Broken limbs and ribs, fractured skull, broken jaw, bite marks along the face and neck, spine and arms.

He shook his head and whispered, "God, what did this?"

The reports established there was no sign of dangerous animals in any of the attacks, and the teeth marks all are identical to one species, human teeth. That is what horrified Chris the most, that a human could do this. He had been with the army and the air force for nearly five years before he was cast out, and never in all of his years of training or combat had he heard of something so malicious. At least nothing in reality, and even the movies would have yet to depict something as wrong and sick as this was.

Suddenly he shot a quick glance about the dark room, dimly illuminated by his desk lamp. A question for his safety began to grow in his spine, and he became clouded by a feeling of uneasiness. Shake it off, he thought to himself, there's nothing to fear right now. He was twenty five years old, time to stop thinking the impossible. But there was simply no logical explanation for this. Even cannibals killed their prey before devouring it, most of them followed by cooking it as well. But this, death by multiple puncture wounds believed to be human bite marks? Attackers rumored to be moving in groups of about ten people, could it be some kind of twisted cult? Chris wasn't all too familiar with cultists, or how far some of their practices would go. Besides, what fool would go as far as to consume half a child? Chris could think of it no further. It simply made no sense, and he could find no logical explanation.

Again he quickly looked around the room, at the door, and uneasily back to the papers. The darkness seemed to hang over him, swaying to and fro with the shadows of his movement as he closed the files. Only the images stayed in his mind; the poor baby child, cradled by rocks and mud, it's jaw and cheeks clawed at and torn wide open as though someone had tried to quiet it's noise if it were crying. It probably was crying, balling as the attacker sunk it's teeth into the baby's ne-

Enough! Chris shook it out of his head and decided it was best to get out of the dark room. He checked his watch, it was five forty-six. He rose out of his chair and straightened his S.T.A.R.S. members white t-shirt, the S.T.A.R.S. insignia on the sleeves and back. He slid his hand through his short blackish brown hair and sighed, something was not right about this entire case. The case itself seemed simple enough, but there was something more…something elusive. What the hell ever, either way Chris knew that in the end Alpha team would be called as back up, they always were. Bravo team always went first, because Irons couldn't stand to see Chris get another case solved. Irons had hated Chris ever since his first mission, probably even before. It was blatantly obvious. Suddenly the door opened, and Chris found himself jumping back and screaming, "Who's there!"

"Uh Chris, it's just me," said Leon stepping into the light of Chris' desk lamp, "I just came to have a look at those files."

Chris slumped down in relief, "Oh, sorry about that."

Leon let loose a smile, "It's all right."

Chris scooped up the manila folder and handed it to Leon, who took it and put it under his arm.

"I thought I might do some research, just in case we get called in after Bravo team."

"Don't worry, we will," said Chris grabbing his leather jacket off of the coat rack, he turned towards the folder in Leon's hand and spoke, "I'll be honest with you, I don't know about this case. It just seems…wrong. Read it for yourself, but all I can say is when we are called in, be ready."

Leon shrugged and nodded, putting the envelope down on his own desk that opposed Chris'. Chris meanwhile had begun to walk out the door when he stopped and poked his head back in, "Hey Leon."

"Yea?" said Leon looking back up at Chris.

"Couple of us are going out for some drinks at around eight or so, wanna join?"

"Uh, I don't think I should, I have some things to do and-"

"Are you sure? Joseph, Barry, and Jill will be there," he said.

Chris always wanted to make the rookie felt welcome amongst the team. He wanted everyone to be well associated with one another and get along for mission's sake and simply for good morale.

"Come on, just for a little while. Everyone would like to know you better, get that whole 'rookie' idea off your shoulders," Chris said with a shrug.

Leon sighed finally, and gave in, "Yea sure. Stopping the rookie thing would be nice. But I don't think that'll stop Joseph."

"No, not until he finds something else to tease you about. Well, I'm out, see you at eight," Chris waved his hand once and closed the door behind him, leaving Leon in the dark of the room with the horrendous file that no one's mind could truly escape from.

Leon looked down at the file on his desk, the manila staring dully at him. But he knew that was just a casing, a shell for what lay in wait behind it. Leon feared for Rebecca and the other members of Bravo team. Just what kind of hell were they heading into?

000

Rebecca looked down at the helipad as the roaring engine took away the helicopter up from the lower roof platform of the police department. Her hazel blue eyes rose from the window to gaze at the belly of the chopper, looking amongst her fellow team members. Kenneth Sullivan sat beside her, the tall and muscular African-American staring straight forward, his gaze powerful but focusing on nothing. Rebecca's gentle eyes moved past him to look upon the faces of Forrest Speyer, the vehicle specialist, and Richard Aiken, communications expert to keep in contact with between both Alpha and Bravo team. Forrest sat with his eyes closed, his head hanging and his long hair hanging in front of his face. The others were always taunting him about his long hair, he didn't care. Richard Aiken's eyes were dimmed, half closed as he stared at the metal floor of the chopper. It was then Rebecca realized he wasn't looking at the floor, but at a picture in his hands. It was a photo of his wife. Enrico sat across the belly of the chopper, checking his 9mm Beretta, the standard issue of the S.T.A.R.S. force. Enrico seemed untouchable by any emotion, he looked as though he carried not one ounce of fear unlike any of the others. His eyes were cold and collected, as though this mission was nothing but a routine check.

In the secondary controls side of the cockpit sat Ed Dewey, next to the pilot Kevin Dooley. The two were quietly mumbling to one another through the headsets, occasionally pointing out towards the darkening horizon as the chopper flew over the city of Raccoon. Soon they were soaring over the suburbs, and Rebecca watched below as houses gradually became farther and farther apart from one another. Soon the houses were scarce, and soon taken entirely by a dark forest. All roads swerved away towards the highway, the small two lane road leading off into the black forest. The sky was red a dark violet as the sun sank beyond the tree tops in the west, its glare shining through the windows of the helicopter. It was then Rebecca noticed it. Off to the north was a thick billowing mass of dark clouds, their shadowy presence the forewarning of a severe storm and a black night. The swiftly moving clouds rampaged forth through the skies, choking out all light from the air. They moved steadily towards the sun, and reached out with their horrible fingers and jaws, devouring her light and slaughtering all sign of daylight.

As Rebecca watched the sun, its final passing maimed and suffocated by darkness, she felt horribly afraid. Suddenly she felt like the little girl she was trying so desperately to escape from, the horrified personality that told her she was still only nineteen. But as she watched the monstrous billows finally ravage every last seep of light she felt more alone then ever. Complete blackness reigned supreme as thunderheads could be seen striking out brilliant flashes of silvery light within the masses of the clouds. Ravenous booms and roars told her a heavy rain might arrive, and she wondered if the mission could possibly be any worse.

Land a quarter mile or so away from one of the most feared estates in Raccoon City, search a dark forest for a group of ravenous criminals who remain ruthless and will have no mercy. All of this is to take place in a rain storm on a black night.

Soon the violent struggle of dusk passed, the darkness had prevailed and nightfall took place. A black, moonless night, Dooley had to turn on the chopper lights because of the shadows that enveloped them. They had been flying for roughly a half hour, and Rebecca could not take her eyes away from the rough hills of Raccoon Forest. Rising and falling, horrible twisted shadows lashing out from the trees as the lights fell upon them.

Suddenly a heavy booming noise from behind them, and the helicopter lurched and eased sideways slightly.

"Shit!" yelled Kevin Dooley.

"What happened!" demanded Enrico, turning back to face the pilot's seat.

"I don't know! The engine just failed!"

"Everybody! Seat belts on! Dooley! Find us a god damn place to land!"

The helicopter shook and whipped around violently, the smell of smoke now amidst the team's nostrils. Rebecca staggered and trembled as she desperately tried to buckle her seatbelt around her thin waist. Another violent lurch and she was thrown out of her seat and onto the floor of the helicopter's hull.

"Rebecca!" yelled Enrico, and he tried through the violent shaking to get up and help her.

The engine roared and heaved the chopper up and down, Dooley swearing and struggling as he desperately tried to swerve the chopper round to find a clear landing. Suddenly the helicopter began to spin around and around as it plummeted helplessly towards the dark forest. Gravity clung to the chopper with it's muscled fingers, dragging it down to the ground. Rebecca screamed as one of the sliding doors was thrown open by the brutal spinning.

"Rebecca!" bellowed Kenneth as he reached out a hand to grab her.

Desperately she reached for his hand but suddenly the chopper heaved forth and Rebecca felt her body slam into the wall of the hull and then slip into cold air as she was thrown from the helicopter.

Rebecca sailed through the air, her eyes staring in horror as she screamed, the chopper growing smaller and smaller as she fell away. With a painful thud she slammed into the soft, dry dirt of the forest grounds. She cried out in agony before gravity again threw her down a steep hill into the shadows of the forest. She rolled to a stop as the hill leveled out, and lay there in obscurity.

The chopper spun into the ground, knocking away small trees and bushes as the blades spun around before they began to die. The helicopter made one final lurch to the side, and rocked back upright, throwing the officers back and forth in their seats. Everything went quiet, the chopper sat lifeless, leaving those it contained in a state of partial shock.

There was a moment of shocked relief before everyone groaned in dulled agony. The windshield was massively cracked, and the chopper itself lay in a kind of crooked angle amidst the foliage.

"God damn it!" snarled Enrico, "Get up off your sorry asses! We got a team member down and we need to find her!"

He threw off his seatbelt, completely oblivious to any pain or unbalanced mentality. The man was tough, as thick as a rock. He pulled out his 9mm Beretta and the flashlight attached to his utility belt, bringing the steady beam of silvery light round to meet their surroundings. They were deep within the Raccoon Forest, perhaps only a mile north of the estate. The veteran kept his steady gaze focused as he guided the light through the gentle fog that had surrounded them. Meanwhile the others staggered weakly out of the chopper.

"Dooley!" yelled Marini.

"Yes, captain?"

"Good work. Now get back there with Forrest and see if you can't figure out what the hell happened. Richard!"

"Yea, Captain?" said Richard as he rubbed a swelling bump on the back of his head.

"Get your ass in there and see if the heavy radio was trashed. If not use the radio on the chopper. As for the rest of you, check the current position and investigate the surrounding area. I want Rebecca found immediately."

Rebecca rose her head to meet a throbbing pain it had ensued upon her. The first thought that came was, where was she? But then partially logical thinking followed. She couldn't have been far from wherever the helicopter landed, she thought she'd heard it crash. Or maybe she felt it. Then her thoughts swelled and formed into one massive and terrible idea, she was alone. Quickly, she stumbled to her feet and drew the Beretta holstered alongside her flashlight. Oh no, her flashlight was gone. It must of fallen out. She collapsed back to her knees in desperation to find it, searching with her hands in the cold dark. She was practically blind, she could sense more with her groping fingers then she could see. Yet her flashlight was nowhere to be discovered. A distant sound as something brushed by leaves and branches. Swiftly Rebecca threw her gaze back towards the deceitful forest around her, her gun quivering in her cold fingers as she gripped the icy metal. The moon was dead, silenced by the dark clouds that hung in the skies above her. Black, ravenous clouds that watched her silently.

Her breath trembled, Rebecca stood frozen, suddenly she became aware of her fear. She was horrified, staring into the blackness that slowly allowed her eyes to become immune to the shadows' tricks and elusive games that taunted her. Massive trees surrounded her in every direction, their bare branches enveloped in a thick fog that lingered throughout the forest as far as Rebecca could see. There was no wind, and the forest was silent. No noise could be heard, nothing except the fast, visible breaths that came from her lips. Her heart pounded behind her ribs, her shoulders and spine felt sensitive to every particle in the air as she looked about her. She had to run, had to get out of this place and meet with the rest of Bravo team.

Desperately she broke into a jog, trying to find her way up the hill she had fallen down, but it was too dark. Her run slowed to a walk which tripped and fell into a crawl. She breathed heavily, her shoulders rising and falling with each intake of oxygen. Her breath was heavy and deep, rhythmic and swift as she climbed. She inhaled deeply to keep herself from panicking, but the noise of her sharp panting breaths kept going.

Rebecca froze and held her breath, those weren't her breaths.

"Who's there!" she shouted, but the demand came out like a whimpering plea. Rebecca tried desperately to see into the shadows, thrusting the barrel of the Beretta out before her. Only silence answered her with its taunting whispers of nothing. She could go nowhere, frozen by her fear as she stood with her back against a tree. Suddenly a soft disturbance of the brush sounded behind her, and she turned, pointing the gun into the darkness. Past the quivering Beretta, her eyes portrayed a stumbling figure as it slowly emerged from the fog.

No, she thought. No please no.

A low, unearthly croaking growl denied her supplication.

"Rebecca!" called Enrico into his portable radio, "Rebecca!"

No reply. Her radio was either dead or off. If she had forgot to turn it on, he would be furious. Enrico had traveled into the forest for a ways, but soon came to a gradual but long hill that led to some valley in the bottoms of the forest. He had no intention of traveling down there alone. God damn it. Everything really screwed up. This whole case was the shits to begin with, the entire investigation seemed somehow twisted. Irons was going to hear about this one. Moron, he really wished he had Barry here to help him. Barry and he went way back, and he needed a good reliable veteran like him right about now.

He had been searching for ten minutes. Maybe someone else had found Rebecca, she could not possibly be much farther away. Not unless she had gotten mixed up and-_No,_ now was not the time to think about such things. He had to make sure she was safe, it was his duty, therefore he had to be on task and focused. He switched the channel on his radio and called Forrest and Dooley on their radio.

"Boys? How's the chopper?"

The quick brushing sound of static, and Forrest's voice came in beneath a gentle buzz, "The engine's blown to shit, captain. I don't know what the hell happened, I just don't understand it. We can't salvage the chopper, she needs an entirely new engine."

"Any sign of Rebecca?"

Another buzz of static before Forrest replied, "No sir. Not yet. No one else has come back yet either, captain."

"Fair enough. I want a full search of the area, we'll find her. What about the chopper's radio?"

"Uh. Well captain. Let's just say the only thing that works on this piece of shit are her doors. She's completely wasted from the crash, everything was sabotaged by some electric surge when we landed."

"Right. Well keep me informed. I'm going to check on the others."

There was a second before Forrest replied, but soon the static fuzzed on again and his buzzing voice replied, "All right. I'm going to get all the supplies out from the-"

Static, then it went quiet. Enrico Marini looked at his radio, smacked it once then called in, "Forrest? You there?"

Nothing but a gentle drone. He listened for a moment, then suddenly jerked the radio away from his ear as Forrest's voice frantically screamed something he couldn't make out. Enrico froze with horror as Forrest's voice hollered in agonizing pain.

Gun shots rang out from the shadows in the woods, and Enrico burst into a sprint back to the helicopter. Whipping through the brush and forest, Enrico swerved throughout the thick masses of trees and plants. He dropped his radio and pulled out his gun, holding it in wait as he sprinted frantically back to help his officers. His men, he wasn't going to let shit happen to any of them. The clusters of trees and foliage ended and he broke through into the clearing to where the helicopter lay, and screamed with rage.


	3. Ch 3: Man with a Key

Chapter Three

Leon shook the images out of his head as he heaved his fists into the heavy bag. The beating motion of his blows thrashing the bag as he brought his knuckles into the faded and cracked leather. He breathed through his nose (always keep your jaw closed, you're jaw gets punched open your jaw gets broken), the heavy panting in a systematic rhythm to keep his stamina up. Low thrust, jab, jab, high blow, jab, high blow. (Keep up your rhythm, never repeat a combination).

Leon increased the power behind his hits, transitioning from speed to power as he slugged a thrusting upper drive into the lower portion of the bag. His blows became slower, but heavier, each hit rattling the chains from which the bag hung. The entire bag shook from the force, his knuckles leaving deep impressions in the leather of the bag. (No weapon is more reliable then your own muscle and bones) The punches increased in power, the bag swinging back and forth as Leon kept on his toes, beating his fists into the callused cover.

A right hook, a jab, reversing the right hook to make an elbow strike, low jab, high thrust. Damn it he couldn't concentrate, he ceased the rain of blows. The images kept returning to haunt him, lingering in his head.

Leon was in the gym in the basement of the police station. It was a large gym, complete with exercise equipment, weights, combat pads and items, and a large matted area to practice hand to hand combat. Leon was next to the mats, using one of three heavy bags that hung from the ceiling. His uncle and older brother had trained him to box when he was a kid, and it was still a preferred cardiovascular workout. He wiped his face with his white towel and sat down on the bench beside his sports bag. He was alone in the large gym, most of the officers were out on night duty, filing papers, or just not on duty. Leon normally enjoyed working out in the evening, at least cardiovascular workouts. The sweat turned cold by the night air felt good. He looked up at the clock on the wall, seven thirty.

The echoing sound of the door at the far end of the gym caught Leon's gaze, and he saw the small figure Of Jill Valentine walking around all of the equipment. He quickly looked back down at his sports bag, pretending not to notice her until she would get closer. Once she was past the tread mills, Leon looked up and said with a quick grin, "Hey Jill."

She smiled brightly and waved with her fingers. Wow, just look at that smile, how her soft pink lips shape. Joseph was not far from the truth at all when he said Jill was the babe of Raccoon City Police Department. She was just so pleasant, so warming to talk to. Her bluish gray eyes, almond brown hair that came down to just above her chin. Her pale complexion, soft creamy skin. She was only a few inches shorter then Leon. It was odd, Jill was harsh to every other man except for him, and he could never understand why.

Leon watched her stroll in with a white t-shirt and tight fitted pants that clung to her long legs. Her build was slender but had apparent muscle that shaped along her gentle curves, and Leon knew from all the times she'd flipped Joseph onto his back in training that she was strong. She walked across the mats over towards him; and to Leon's surprise and quiet joy, she sat beside him. But his joy turned to distress as he searched for something to say. Come on, he had to say something, how pathetic it would be if he kept silent. Thankfully, she spoke first.

"Have you had a chance to look at the files on that case yet?"

Leon shook his head with a gulp of water, "Just a brief overview, I was too shocked to read any further, it was disgusting. I came down here to get it out of my mind."

"Yea. I haven't yet, I don't really want to," she paused and the two allowed a small silence to pass by.

Leon took off the thin gloves to reveal his knuckles red with scrapes and burns, sore from the beating they gave and took. Jill saw them and added with a smile, "It looks like you tried pretty hard to get it out of your head."

Leon let out a breath as a short laugh, "Yea. I don't know, I just feel really terrible when something like that happens. Then I read about it or hear about it and I just feel like…like I want to find whoever's responsible and make them pay. Doing something that horrible to little children, the most innocent image we have here on this earth. And to ruin it like…it just makes me want to punish those that did it, and protect others so that never happens," he said, then added with a sheepish kind of grin, "I suppose that's why I became a cop."

Jill smiled as she put on her own gloves and said, "Yea. I know that feeling. But I suppose I joined because…well…you know I don't really remember. I know it wasn't the pay."

The two laughed and Jill stood up, going to one of the bags.

"Well," she said, "I'd better get those thoughts out of my head. Are you coming for drinks, tonight?"

"Uh, yea," he said zipping up his bag.

She looked him up and down with a smile on her face before saying, "Good. See you there."

"All right," he said standing up and making for the door with his bag on his shoulder.

He stopped as he got to the door, hearing the heavy thuds behind him as they were thrown into a bag. They were powerful, but he recognized the wild, uncontrolled blows. Leon let down his bag and turned around to watch Jill for a second. Her back was to him, and she was standing in a basic ready stance on her toes. She threw a light jab followed by a shockingly high kick that was flung over her head.

"Hey Jill," he said, watching her stop and look at him with those dazzling eyes, "Do you mind if I give you some pointers?"

She kind of looked at him strangely, as though no one had ever said that to her. And yet, with the small grin she had on, it seemed she didn't mind.

"Maybe some other time, rookie," she said, "But I'll hold you to it."

"All right."

000

Albert was quiet. No word escaped his mouth, no thought captured his mind, he was completely silent. Only his heart moved, thumping slowly, a steady beat that carried him delicately. The human heart, what a weak machine for a weak system. The methods for its eradication were endless, it's limits were infinitesimal. As a matter of fact the entire human body was a pathetic form of life, the only thing substantial to survival was the mind. The brain was the homo sapiens' one source of security in this world, the only thing that kept them alive. Not just that, but it rose beyond the survival needs and took to the most important thought. The ability to question and explore, that is what gave them the power to manipulate their surroundings, other species, their own home, and each other. The mind was such a powerful thing, it was sad to see it taken for such a useless tool.

Wesker sat at his desk in the S.T.A.R.S. office, staring down at the files that the rookie had left. Leon Kennedy, that was the kid's name. Good man, good cop. Leon was strong and honest, he showed respect, and that's what Wesker liked about him. Enough, what about this mission. Yes, it could not fail, not one part. Everything had to fully connect, there could be no exception. It was apparent Alpha team would be called in to back up Bravo team, Wesker was certain that Enrico and his team members could not handle this alone. It was too immense and complicated, Enrico would most likely radio in when the chance was had.

And then the mission would truly begin.

000

Leon had left Jill alone in the gym to go change in the men's locker room. His first step into the room gave him the wafting scent of deodorant mixed with steam from the boiler room that was just above. The men's locker room was hot as always, and it gave no relief to Leon as he walked along the aisles until he found his own locker. He softly swung it open to reveal his jeans and t-shirt he had earlier. His jacket also hung from a hook. He took these items out, and as he removed the jacket, beneath it was revealed his gun. An MR desert eagle, one of the heaviest and most powerful handguns in America. Not like that gave him much pride, if Leon had his way he wouldn't even have to deal with the dangerous thing. But he needed it, and so it was a present from his Uncle and brother when he had graduated from the academy. Now it hung in the leather shoulder strap that lay suspended from the hook in the locker. Below the hanging weapon, lay Leon's field uniform.

At this he stopped and stared for a moment, the blackish blue pants with extra pockets lining the sides. The royal blue vest that read "S.T.A.R.S." on the back, the gray t-shirt with the S.T.A.R.s insignia upon the sleeves, and the black combat boots that sat in a compartment below all of this. His uniform, it wasn't necessarily as flashy as the standard police uniform, but then again being a S.T.A.R.s. member was an even higher honor. Leon could live with the uniform, besides he only had to wear it out in a serious situation. Anything inner city, and all he needed was his own clothes, his badge, and his gun.

Leon had just put on his jeans and a spare white t-shirt when the door opened and closed. It was probably Joseph coming to get him, anxious about getting drinks no doubt. Footsteps, the heavy clunking against the concrete as they broke into a run and stopped, hesitated, and started again. Leon closed his locker, listening closely. The steps suddenly pounded down one of the rows of lockers and back around. Leon's locker was at the last row at opposite wall to the doors. The second door led to a stairway that took its follower either outside the back emergency exit or up to the offices. The sprinting feet stopped, and suddenly the massive noise of lockers being slammed open and shut vibrated throughout the room. What the hell is going on?

"Hello?" asked Leon.

Everything went silent, and Leon abruptly felt he had made a very bad move.

"Who's there?" Leon allowed his voice to range louder, the deep sound echoing throughout the room.

It was then that the rookie had become aware of just how dark the room was. Only one row of lights remained illuminated in the vast locker room, they lit up over the end of each row of lockers, along one of the walls, but that was it. Everything else was dark. Shadows crept along the other ends of the lockers and along the rows themselves. Leon was hesitant, but perhaps it was simply that someone on duty had forgotten something, and were rushing to get it. He was just being paranoid. He reached for his leather jacket and threw it over his shoulders, when suddenly a heavy clanking sound echoed as though something heavy and metal dropped against the floor.

"Who's there?" Leon called again, more abrupt.

His fears had snared the better of him, and he reached for the desert eagle and one of its shining clips. Gently, Leon slid the clip into the handle of the powerful magnum, and loaded the first bullet into the chamber. The weight felt powerful in his hands, but he knew it was a dangerous power. Leon slunk against the wall opposite his row of lockers, and quietly moved away from the lit end of the room, into the shadows. Whoever they are, he was just as strong if not stronger then they were. If they could see him in the dark then he could see them. He came to the ending of his row of lockers, and could barely see into the shadows beyond, looking down the walk that went along the other rows of lockers. Aiming the magnum, he jumped away from the wall and along the passage beside the rows of lockers. He pressed his back against the end of his row of lockers, listening intently. Just around the corner was the passage between the two columns of lockers, and he had no idea where this whoever was. Leon breathed heavily, swiftly pushing the air in and out of his lungs. He inhaled and exhaled faster and faster, pumping energy into his body. Jesus he was scared, the damn files he had read had him completely paranoid.

A faint clicking sound came from around the corner in between the two columns, and Leon felt himself throw his weight around to face it. Nothing. Only the muffled hiss of the boiler room above and the gentle buzzing of the fluorescent lights against the far wall. But now he edged closer and closer into the darkness of the locker room. Sweat beaded from his forehead, streaming from the heat of the locker room and the fear that crept along his skin. Leon lowered the gun, both hands tightly clasped to its handle, and began to travel down past the rows of lockers. He moved to the second passage between the lockers, and again aimed his gun around the shadows. No one. He stood silent for a moment, no muscle moving, no breath escaping his sealed lips. He listened, but could hear nothing foreign to the locker room, was he alone?

Leon took a step backwards and decide to hell with it.

"Who's there?" he said almost in a tone that sounded pissed off if anything

Nothing, and Leon stood in silence.

"Help…"

Leon whipped the gun around to face a figure, his features obscured by the light behind him. It was a man, his shoulders scrunched, his arms in fists at his side. The man was tall and sickeningly thin. He wore a tattered tie about a white collar shirt, his glasses gleamed from the light and revealed a crack in one of the lenses. From first glance, he seemed to be a scrawny man of computers. But he wasn't a police officer, and so Leon rose his gun.

"Who are you?" he demanded, but the question came out like a quivering plea.

The man's narrow head cocked to the side upon his scrawny neck, and he took one step forward.

"That's enough! You are in a restricted area! Only officers are to be here! Hands up!" Leon commanded, holding the heavy gun steadily.

The figure stopped, but did not raise his hands.

"Do it!"

Then he spoke. A thin, trembling voice that was squeaky, twisting with difficulty on every syllable, "Are you…S.T.A.R.S.?"

The voice of the man showed every sign that he was terribly disturbed. His fists were so tightly clenched that they were quivering under stress, and blood trickled from the knuckles as though the man's fingernails were digging into his skin.

"One of the members, yea," said Leon, not lowering his gun but relaxing his shoulders.

The man was of no trouble. Leon could see the man was hardly dressed, his clothing was once a suit and tie but now nothing more then stained rags. The jacket was gone, and his pants were torn and ragged. Black splotches etched with crimson stained his chest along with brown and a mucus green. His hair, wild and tangled, a black mass atop his thick head. He smelled horrible, a smell like something from an alleyway. Urine and puke, along with a pungent smell that stung Leon's nostrils. It smelled almost like chemicals.

"Have you read of the attacks?" the voice cracked into a high whisper at the end, every word sounded as though it was desperately trying to escape the jaws.

"Yes, we are going to investigate soon," that was a partial lie, Alpha team might not go in at all, "Don't worry we have everything under control. Now please you have to come with me-"

"You have nothing under control! You cannot control them. I've come to warn you…"

The man reached into his pocket.

"Stop! What are you doing!" asked Leon, his attention caught swift.

The man did not reply, but continued to dig around in his shirt pocket until he clutched what he was looking for. Removing his hand from his pocket, he stumbled as he took another step forward.

"That's _enough_, freeze!" said Leon, but found himself taking a step back.

"Please…" groaned the figure, "Take this."

"Stop!"

"Please…" came the wheezing sound of desperation as the man stumbled forth.

Leon was horrified, but felt his instincts go gentle. There didn't seem a reason to be afraid, but he did not lower his gun. Instead he allowed the man to reach him. The smell flared in Leon's nostrils, it was so thick and repulsive that he found it difficult to breathe. From his chapped, blood-crusted lips the man was whispering something, speaking fast and…urgently. The words were incomprehensible, they seemed not even human. He held out his bony fist to reveal a small silvery object sticking out between his fingers. The fingers themselves were covered with what seemed to be perforations, and dried blood clotted up about them. Leon cautiously rose his hand to meet the man's, and felt something metal and heavy drop into his fingers as the man released. Leon didn't look at it, for his concern now lay with the man.

He was badly injured, and Leon knew he couldn't survive long if he didn't seek medical attention soon.

"Come on, we have to get you to a hospital," said Leon gently touching the huge man's arm.

"NO!" he cried, suddenly ripping his arm free.

The man was taller then Leon, but much skinnier. He obviously had not eaten for days. And as the man broke loose of Leon's grip he turned to face him fully, and Leon saw his eyes. Horrible, white eyes crusted with pus and blood along the pupil. The man turned away and whimpered, crying inexplicable words to himself. He was almost like a child, hunched over in fear as Leon tried to take control. He tucked his arms close to his chest, curling up, his hands twisted and his fingers bent awkwardly, trembling.

"You need medical attention for those wounds," said Leon.

"NO! They can't help me!" screamed the man, frantically shaking his head, "No one can help me!"

"Please, sir! Come with me!"

"NO!"

It was then that Leon realized the man wasn't shaking his head, it was in the midst of a tremor. Twitching furiously, his entire body was beginning to convulse. Leon stepped back, afraid at first. But this man desperately needed help. Leon took a deep breath and again tried to grab him but suddenly the man screamed and grabbed him by the throat. Leon felt a gagging feeling hit his esophagus as he was lifted into the air and thrown back. He slammed into the floor and slid before coming to a stop on the wet locker floor. Leon winced, his eyes clenched shut as his head pulsed with pain. However as he opened his eyes, his hands clutching for his gun which no longer was at his side. Oh shit, he was screwed.

The man breathed wheezed, his shoulders pumping and rolling with each intake of air.

"Please," said the man, his voice quaking and twisted, "Just leave me alone. I only c-came, to help you. Take what I give you, and use it in the mansion."

"What mansion-?"

"Use it in the mansion!"

Leon watched the man turn and leave, disappearing into the shadows of the locker room. Small drops of blood lay where he once stood, and Leon heard the slam of the heavy door. He sat up, wincing in agony from the throbbing that came from his head. His gun lay upon the concrete floor not far from him, but he still felt something in his hand. It was whatever the man had given him. Leon brought his hand close to his face and opened it, revealing an old fashioned looking skull key. It was made of silver, and the teeth at the end were shaped in an odd fashion. The other end had a diamond in the center, and several sapphire stones around that, all of it wrapped in the silver metal. He decided it was best if he didn't tell anyone about this, if Wesker found out he let the man go like that he'd be off the S.T.A.R.s. team for sure.

000

The drinks didn't last long. Joseph had sipped down his first mug of beer in only a minute or so. He wasn't a drinker, but he wasn't much for savoring the taste either. Barry was very subtle about his drinking, just a mug of imported beer and he was good for the night. Jill assumed it was because of his children, he had no intention of harboring a bad example. They sat at a table in the corner of Ben's Tavern, the pub was always somewhat full because with workers just off duty. As usual Chris knew the bartender and so he had gotten them a good seat. Normally going out for drinks was a fun thing, but not tonight. Everyone was quiet, talking seldom and only in a serious tone.

Jill wasn't much of a drinker either, she had never been fond of alcohol but a good beverage once in awhile didn't bother her. She stirred the little straw around in her margarita, her gaze occasionally raising to one of the others. She caught a look at Leon and noticed he hadn't even ordered a drink yet. He looked up at her for a moment and she smiled at him, and it cheered her to see that he smiled back. It wasn't one of those half grins or nervous smiles, he smiled.

Yet with the exception of that brief moment, everything remained unsteady. Jill knew that they had all at some time seen the files describing their disquieting case; and here it was several hours later, and still they could find no way to calm their racing minds. Even Joseph looked as though the few words of the files he was lazy enough to read had him choking down his beer. It was Chris who spoke first.

"This doesn't make any sense to me," he said, "Why Irons let something this big be handled by only the bravo team. They would need back up."

"They're strong enough," replied Barry, "You know Marini takes care of his people."

"I know," said Chris, "I just can't seem to help myself. Nothing feels right about this case, everything feels as though it shouldn't belong. It feels like, like I should be troubled about something."

"I don't see why. We'll get it under control, Chris. Umbrella corporation will be there to ensure we all are safe."

"Umbrella corporation," replied Chris, annoyed by the very name, "That faceless organization is a phony, unrealistic machine that feeds people the idea they are sick, and they need their goddamn medicines and serums to cure them. Not to mention how phony their control on technology is."

"Chris," cut in Jill, "I wouldn't be too angry with Umbrella. They brought this city up from the ground. They have given us the money we need and the security this city needs. We have the most advanced police force in America."

"That's not what I'm worried about, that all seems decent to me. But what bothers me is that we have no real idea about what to expect. We don't know where the attackers are hiding, how many of them there are, what's their strength, what's their weakness, Jesus we don't even know If they're human."

At this everyone lost attention on Chris' words. Joseph groaned and Jill sighed. Chris was extremely superstitious, never afraid to admit he believed in spirits, aliens, and all other sorts of imaginary beings. Now Jill actually couldn't say for herself whether or not they were real, but she would remain skeptical until proof was set before her.

"Chris," said Joseph as he finished another beer, "what the hell are you talking about? The identification of the teeth markings was fuckin' human, all of them. And even if it was some extra terres-uh…"

"Terrestrial-"

"Extra terrestrial piece of shit. Why would they come all the way to our shitty little planet, and eat a few people in one of the most boring, least heard of cities? Does that sound like a well thought out plan, to you?"

Chris even had to laugh a little. It remained incomprehensible how Joseph could take the most horrible event ever to occur in Raccoon City and slice it up to feed to humor.


	4. Ch 4: The Woods

Thank you again to all who have reviewed so far. I am very sorry for taking away the other chapters but they were in dire need of revising. I promise to have them back as soon as possible. With that said, thanks again and enjoy.

* * *

Chapter Four

July 24, 1998

The telephone sprang to life, jabbering and ringing alongside Chris' ear.

"No…" he groaned, rolling over in blankets and darkness.

The telephone continued to squawk incessantly, splashing the waters of reality into his face as he reluctantly woke from his dreams. His hand extended from the bed sheets and felt about the nightstand for the phone, his eyes groping for a vision of what time it was. Four thirty, damn. His fingers felt about as they curled around the ear piece of the phone, and Chris removed it from the receiver and placed it beside his ear.

"Screw you…" he groaned.

"Chris? Chris is that you?" came the high, nervous voice of Brad Vickers; the alpha team's pilot.

Brad was a good guy, nice and everything, but he had no balls whatsoever.

"Chickenheart," Chris groaned, "If there is not an applicable reason for calling me this freaking late-"

"There is, Chris. And it's early, not late."

Brad's voice sounded quaky. He was nervous, and as he explained to Chris why he was interrupting his slumber, his voice grew more unsteady. Suddenly, the explanation had slammed into Chris and he was fully awake. He sat straight up in bed, and replied, "All right all right, I'm there."

Brad squeaked a good-bye but Chris had already hung up. He threw the bed sheets off of him to reveal he was completely nude. Frantically he went to his dresser to unearth yet more clothes. As he did this he called over his shoulder, "Baby, something's come up at the office. Make yourself at home but before you go just be sure to lock the door and all the windows."

The sheets on the right side of his bed ruffled, and a pretty young woman appeared. She brushed away her blonde hair and said with a yawn, "Okay."

Chris stretched into a white t-shirt and slinked into his black jeans, throwing his black leather jacket over all of it. On the back of his jacket, an angel holding a wicked looking crossbow sat half naked. "Made in heaven" was in small red curving stitches on the lower right side of the back. Chris walked into the bathroom to put on some deodorant and slick back his short, dark brown hair when the girl called, "Hey Chrissie?"

"Yea?" he called from the bathroom, its light floating down into the dark bedroom.

The girl hopped out of bed, also nude, but she covered herself with the blanket to keep safe from the cold. She quietly walked into the bathroom to see Chris slip on his black boots.

"Thank you for last night," she said with a smile, kissing him on the cheek.

He smiled quickly, but the worry in his eyes seeped down to deplete his playful grin.

"You're welcome," he replied.

And with that, he was out into the living room of the large apartment, grabbing his motorcycle helmet and keys.

"Bye," he called over his shoulder.

"Bye," she replied.

Chris paced out into the dim hallway of his apartment building, turning right to head down an emergency exit staircase. The dank smell of cement and moisture reeked as he hurried down the stairs and out to his motorcycle that awaited him in the sheltered parking spaces. Judging by the gentle gleam that reflected the orange glow of the streetlights, it had rained sometime in the night. But now whatever storm there was had passed, and had left it's sopping wet footprints behind. The roads were wet, he would have to be careful.

Pulling down his full-faced helmet, Chris hopped onto the softail and brought his little baby to life. The engine roared, loud cracking noises sounded off with the rumbling as he hauled out of the lot and into the glistening orange of the street lamps. He watched his speed, ever watchful over the pace at which his bike hollered down the street. But his mind could not help but wander away from his focus. What Brad had told him was something he had been horrified to hear since that case first opened.

000

It was real. It wasn't a game, it wasn't some unbelievable words on paper. It was a reality now. Everyone who stood in the communications room knew it, everyone recognized it now as something that would not be removed easily. It was five in the morning, and all seven members of alpha team stood in the small cluttered room. A huge computer type of machine sat up against the walls, it was the control room for all radios and communications of the police department. The controls for the S.T.A.R.S. sat marked in one corner of the room. The radioman sat with his headphones pulled down around his neck, Chief Irons standing over him with his fists on his hips.

Over again it played. That horrible, broken, cracking and buzzing sounds, the radio whining at a lack of good frequency. Jill stood beside Chris and Leon, her hand over her mouth as she listened. Chris had his arms folded, his and Barry's eyes fixed upon the radio as it sputtered and wheezed. Leon looked around at everyone, unable to fully connect himself with the situation that was splayed before him. It wasn't right. Suddenly the tense, nervous voice of Richard Aiken buzzed in through the radio.

"Hel-…is anyone-…do you read me!" he screamed frantically, "Are y-…there!"

Joseph hung his head low, shielding his eyes with one of his hands against the bright fluorescent light. His humor had been completely stripped from his face, and he hung back in the shadows. Suddenly a spell of clarity was cast over the radio, and Richard Aiken's voice could be heard distinctly, though fuzz still embroidered his words.

"God damn it. Someone please get this message to Alpha team," he said desperately, his voice choked with fear, "There was an accident, the chopper had to make an emergency landing. We were attacked-…"

His voice went unclear, drowned out by the static and crackling. Then it broke free, dipping in and out of the buzz.

"-ran to the mansi-…-they're dead-I don't know who's alive…-Please find us…"

The radio became clear but Richard's voice did not speak for a long time. Only his breathing could be heard. In and out the breath came, the radio distorting it. His breathe began to wheeze and stutter, and Leon realized he was on the verge of crying. The sound of a broken man. Finally he spoke, his words bringing tears to Jill's eyes as he cried, "It's horrible."

Then the frequency died. The control man moved to play it once more for them, for it was recorded at twelve when no one could hear it. Chris however lurched forward and his fist against the many buttons of the radio, and the recording stopped.

"God damn it!" he yelled, his furious gaze turning to Irons, "You son of a bitch! If you had just listened to us then this wouldn't of happened!"

"Shut your damn mouth, you punk! You should be thanking me because if I had listened to you, you all would either be dead or with Aiken! You've heard what I wanted you to hear so get the hell out of this place! You all leave to go after them at seven tomorrow evening!"

"What!" Wesker suddenly butted in, "Sir, why that long? They could all be dead by then!"

"Because I don't want news of this getting out," growled Irons turning back to Chris, "If one peep of this kind of story gets to the papers we'll have folks running up there to see what the hell's going on. And what can we do? Barricade the entire god damn forest! We don't even know where to look for chrissake! If it's at night and you take the other chopper then no one will suspect a thing!"

Irons had a strange, yet somewhat logical way of thinking. It were as though it could extend to a certain point towards your mind, and if you simply pretended it made sense, it would. But if you took a step back and examined it, it was an impossible idea. Chris chose never to pretend, and he turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the doors shut behind him. The others followed quietly. Now the case could never be easily cast aside in their memory, no longer was it carried by hope that it would be something easily forgotten. It would hollow away at its point in their memories, burrowing and never allowing itself to crumble. Little did they know it would only dig deeper.

000

Leon had decided not to go home. He decided it was best not to sleep, but to stay at the office and simply find some deep and heavy load of work that would distract his mind from the mission. However the moment he would idle from whatever paper sat before him, his mind would trace back to those horrible images. Only he would now see Rebecca, lying in that puddle of blood. No, he had to snap out of it. He looked up from his desk, everyone had gone home with the exception of the pretty girl sitting across the room reading a book. Jill had decided to stay behind for whatever reason, she probably felt similar fear and hatred as Leon did. Leon gazed at her, watching her as her conscientious eyes scanned the words of what she read. Leon glimpsed the face of the book and noticed Stephen King in big letters, though he could not see what title.

Wow, he thought to himself, wrong kind of novel to be reading as of now. He watched her flip a page and begin on the other side, her fingers gently grazing the top of the book. She looked up to see him quickly turn back to his own desk, back to whatever lay upon the stacks of papers. She smiled tenderly at his reaction, and watched him fumbling around with papers and trying to act busy. She closed her book and said calmly, "How are you doing, Leon?"

"Oh, just. You know," said Leon with a forced smirk, "trying to not think about tomorrow, I guess."

"Yea," she said, "You should go home and get some sleep."

"I think I can hold out. Besides, this case hasn't really given me the chance to sleep," he replied, "But what about you?"

"No, I'll be fine. I kind of like staying here late at night sometimes," she said as she brought several strands of hair away from her eyes, "Everyone thinks this old police station is creepy, but I kind of like being in such a large building all alone."

"Have you ever tried to find those rumored secret passages people always say Irons has?" asked Leon sarcastically.

"Yea," she smiled to herself, "Once actually. I never did find them though."

"Do you want to go and look?" he asked hopefully.

Jill's smile and complexion gleamed in the soft light of her lamp, illuminating the side of her figure. Leon could not ignore how pretty she was, and he couldn't help but to think that maybe he should try and intensify things between the two of them. Maybe…

"Well, maybe not tonight, Leon. Other officers will start arriving soon," she said standing and stretching.

"Oh, all right," he said looking back down at his work.

Shot down yet again, _kablamo_! And some indistinct feeling told him he would have to go through an entire shelling to get with this girl. She walked past him towards the door, what hopes he had drowned now in what he'd have to face. Just give it up, anyways. She's probably got more of a thing for Chris.

000

Much of the day ahead passed by at an ominously slow rate. Jill had decided to spend most of it working, but as the clocks hands clambered closer to seven p.m. she could not help but allow the distraction of worry take over her body. She felt light, weak, almost completely defenseless. Not good, no. If she could just focus, she had to remain in control, she _was _in control. Oh the hell she was, she had no command, she was the only girl on her team, and she was so scared she was about to up and quit the team. But helping her companions was far more important then her own safety in her eyes. She looked up at the office clock, six thirty. Not even time for a walk, she had better go to the lockers and dress in her uniform. They would be wanting to leave soon.

000

Leon took off his shirt to feel the steam from the men's locker room breathe warmly upon his skin. It was six thirty-five, they would be leaving soon so he and Joseph had decided to get dressed for the operation. It would be cold tonight, so he would dress in his full uniform like the others. He pulled the gray t-shirt over his head and down over his muscles, letting the cloth slide down to the belt of his jeans. The S.T.A.R.S. insignia upon either of his shoulders felt good, he felt as though he meant something when he wore that shirt. He was something, he was a guard against evil. A protector of those who are innocent. Okay, he thought to himself, it's time to stop with the cheesy fantasy film spoof.

"Hey man," said Joseph who had already finished dressing and was putting on his black combat boots, "C-can I ask you something?"

"No, Joseph, you can't," Leon replied as he buckled the uniform's heavy, dark blue cargo pants around his waist after tucking in the shirt.

"_Seriously_, Leon," snapped Joseph, and it was.

Joseph never used referred to Leon by his name unless he was utterly sincere.

"Okay, what?" asked Leon, buttoning the royal blue vest, the thick heavy feeling weighing him down slightly.

The vests, given to all the S.T.A.R.S. by color of their choice, were protective against cold, heat, and somewhat shielded their chests and backs against an attack (such as a fist or a kick, anything past that and they were screwed).

"Anything could be out there, but whatever it is," said Joseph finishing the last lace of his left boot, "I think it's really bad. If-…if I watch your back will you watch mine? You know? Keep a lookout for each other?"

Leon looked at his friend, at his intense almond eyes and he knew he wasn't messing around. Leon nodded and said, "You got it. I'm right there."

The two clasped hands together and smiled at each other, thankful to find some relief in what seemed their darkest moment. Joseph stood and wrapped his infamous lucky red bandana around his head like a cap, tying it in the back. He took the 9mm Beretta that was holstered from his shoulder strap in his street jacket, and buttoned it in the gun holster on his utility belt.

"Oh, Leon?" asked Joseph, "One more thing."

"Yea?" replied Leon.

Joseph got real close and said, "This is real important, and you can't tell any fuckin' person you here, you dig me?"

"Yea."

"All right…" he said, and taking a deep breath he continued, "I have to take a major shit."

Leon rolled his eyes and said, "Get outta here."

"Oh no, actually I plan to dump it right here, on your shoes."

"Would you get out?" asked Leon laughing.

Joseph, his grin wide on his face, said, "All right. I'm going up to weapons check to get a shotgun and some shells. You want anything?"

"Yea, a double cheeseburger, hold the onions," replied Leon, chuckling at his own joke.

Joseph stared at him blankly, until Leon stopped laughing.

"Yea that's not funny, dude."

"Yea, I'm working on it," replied Leon, "But seriously I'm good, I've got the eagle here."

"All right," said Joseph calling over his shoulder as he walked out of the locker, "I'll see your ass at the helipad."

Leon shook his head at his friend as he heard the door open and close shut. However, he knew Joseph had been serious about their looking out for each other. Leon strapped the utility belt around his waist, and sat down to tie the combat boots on. The heavy, steel toed boots weighted down his legs as he strapped them on. As he finished tying the last two laces together, he heard the door open and close again, the sound igniting a tingle in his nerves that left him breathless. Footsteps, echoing all around him, he could not tell which door had been disturbed nor which direction around him the footsteps came from. Leon silently stood, slinking towards his locker to grab his MR Desert Eagle along with the two clips originally meant as practice rounds. Slipping the two extra clips into the pouches at his side, he reached into his locker once more and revealed a small tactical knife. This he slid into it's sheath at the backside of his belt, and there he waited.

It could have possibly been another officer, maybe even one of the S.T.A.R.S. But Leon had thought the same thing last time, and so now he waited in silence for whoever it was to pop around his row of lockers. The footsteps had stopped for a moment, but now they were again echoing as whoever it was moved about the room. Leon dared not call out, not wanting to attract anything unwanted if it was indeed something to be cautious around. Then suddenly the footsteps' echoing was narrowed down, behind him. He spun around and aimed eagle at a figure in the shadows, the figure shrieked and stumbled back.

"Leon! What the hell!"

Brad Vickers, his eyes wide with shock at Leon's reaction.

"Oh," replied Leon as his shoulders slumped in relief, "It's you. Sorry about that Brad."

"Yea," he said nervously, "Ju-just don't do it again. You scared the bejesus out of me."

The scrawny pilot briskly paced to his locker and opened the door to begin dressing in his own uniform.

"See you up at the helipad," said Leon as he holstered the magnum and closed his locker.

"Yea."

000

With the screaming whir of the engine, the helicopter rose into the air, the blade whipping around the warm summer night's air. Inside the belly, Alpha team sat in silence. No one spoke nor could their minds find something to speak about, everything was kept bound by the single thought of question. They had no idea what was awaiting them, no one could assume anything save that it would be dangerous. Chris sat with his side against one of the doors, looking out the window at the slowly darkening skies that loomed over them. The sun sank beyond the mountains, and the city below them was growing thinner as they traveled through the air towards Raccoon Forest. Chris turned away from the window to look around at his companions. Everyone seemed very self contained, hardly moving, they hardly seemed to breathe. You could be the greatest veteran, but put your friends in a dangerous situation and you become as worried and horrified as any blood virgin on a first mission.

That thought made Chris look at Leon, the rookie of S.T.A.R.S. He must be freaking out, but in truth Leon looked quite calm. He simply sat there beside Joseph, leaning against the helicopter wall with his fingers laced together. Beside him, Joseph sat with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasping each other as the ball of his foot nervously tapped against the metal floor. Barry, sitting beside Chris, sat admiring his colt python. Chris couldn't really see Jill, but she seemed calm and attentive to the situation. Her blue eyes stared out the window, and Chris assumed that she was already looking for the lost helicopter.

Albert Wesker. The man was as solid as a rock, sitting in perfect posture, staring straight at the wall through his shades. Jesus Christ, he was wearing his sunglasses even at night. But there was something odd about Wesker tonight, something different that made Chris uneasy. How could he be so calm in this situation? So composed? It were as though he knew exactly what was going to happen the minute they would find the helicopter. Suddenly Brad's voice snapped Chris out of his thoughts, "We're over the area now, I'm going to start making circles. Everyone keep your eyes open, we're losing light fast."

Chris peered out the window, gazing down at the forest below. The black trees groped up at the chopper, reaching out as it swooped over head, begging for the chopper to land amidst their blackness. Chris scanned over the forest, all that he could see. But it was too dark, the final glow of the sun was slipping beneath the horizon, its orange and red streaks across the clouded sky. The night would be a black one.

As they searched, dusk swept away and nightfall was revealed. Brad shown the light beneath the cockpit down upon the forest, scaring away the shadows to reveal the green as it fluttered over and away. Then suddenly Jill gasped against the opposite window, "Look Chris!"

It was Bravo team's helicopter, and Brad swung the light around as he leaned the chopper over to shine upon twisted metal, wreathed partially in brush from the forest.

"Brad," called Wesker, suddenly coming to life from his stone form, "Where is the mansion from here?"

"Not far," called Brad, "Maybe only a few hundred yards, I can't make it out but if we are where I think we are then it's not far at all. We should be able to see it from the ground."

"Good, find a place to land."

The chopper began to dip low, and everyone tightened their breath as the shadows began to swell below them. Chris kept his and back straight against the wall of the chopper, his pose stiff and secure as he waited impatiently for Brad to bring the giant bird down. He could do it himself, Chris knew he was twice as good a pilot as Chickenheart was. It was only chief Irons that stood against him operating the helicopter. Until Irons was out of commission, he was merely a foot soldier. Chris thoughts were abruptly muddled together as he felt the chopper jolt before settling down amidst the forest grounds. There was not much of an area to land, but Brad had done a decent job.

"Everyone out," said Albert as he threw the door open and hopped out.

Chris followed closely behind, loading and readying his 9mm berretta. The others dropped from the steel, firm platform to meet a thick gushing sound of mud and water. Joseph allowed a slew of curses slip into the cold air as his boots slapped about in the water and muck.

Albert gathered everyone together to stand about in a small circle. However a majority of their attention could not be kept, for it was the forest that had taken a center position on the stage of their awareness. The fog, frightened away by the gusts of wind given by the propeller blade of the chopper began to settle thickly once more, billowing in about them so that nothing but a dull silvery blue could be seen instead of what their surroundings truly were. Several twisted, gnarling branches of trees dipped in from the clouds of fog, and brush rose from the ground like bushels of black thunder. Everything was dead, dead? Chris was confused, it is in the middle of July, and a heavy rain had been going on for several nights, why would they all be dead?

The silvery moonlight glided down to rest upon the shoulders of alpha team, shading the colors of their uniforms so that all wore pale shades of blue and gray.

"All right everyone, listen," said Albert, "I want to make this fast and efficient. Our first objective is to find bravo team's helicopter and see if we can find any evidence. Be prepared for the worst. Next, and I care nothing for what our orders are on this, we investigate the mansion and the surrounding area. Never mind what Irons said, I want our people out of here and safe. Then we'll check out the area ourselves.

"As for now we concentrate on two things, staying alive and making sure everyone else is as well. To be honest, I don't know what to expect out here so deny nothing. Now, Chris, Jill, Barry, and myself will go and search for the missing helicopter. Joseph. You, Leon, and Brad guard the chopper while we look-"

"Bull shit, Wesker!" cried Joseph.

"Oh thank god," muttered the horrified Brad.

Leon and Joseph turned to Brad's huddled, quivering figure in the moonlight, then drew their gaze back to Albert.

"Why do we have to stay behind?" cried Joseph.

"It's not fair, they're our companions and we care about this just as much as you all do. We should go to," objected Leon.

"Yea," Joseph jumped in again, "Let Chickenheart stay here by himself to guard the chopper."

"Oh please no…" whispered Brad.

"Enough!" Wesker's voice was calm but firm, "You are to do as you are ordered. I know I go normally by equality, but this is no normal situation. You three have to stay here and guard our chopper in case whoever's out there stumbles upon it. Or if they find us and we need a quick start up to get out of here. And furthermore, I am choosing these three because I know them the best and I know what they will do and what they won't do in the field. Leon you're a good cop and I've witnessed your skill, but I just don't know you. And Joseph, you are the best with the guns and the equipment, I need you here to keep a look after everything. Especially Brad."

They were all quiet, but it was apparent to Chris that jealousy and irritation gleamed fiercely in Leon's eyes.

"That's all, we'll radio back if we find anything," said Wesker.

He turned and walked to the helicopter, disappearing inside it's metal belly. He returned carrying four radios and a headset. He himself took one of the radios, attaching it to the headset so he could keep both hands free and hear every nearby frequency at all times. The other three were handed to Jill, Chris, and Barry. Wesker then solemnly walked off into the fog, his black uniform soon swallowed by the forest.

"You owe me, Chris," pointed Joseph with a firm index finger.

"Yea sure, Joseph. I guess you all are just too immature to go with us," said Chris as he tightened his gloves, then continued, "But you might wants to take a little walkie awound your helwicoptie so that da big baddies won't comes to gets it."

Joseph revealed another pointing finger at Chris, but it wasn't his index. Chris shook his head with his perfect 'Mr. Suave' smile, and disappeared after his commander. Barry gave a quick salute before slumping off afterwards. Jill looked at Leon for a moment, smiled, then turned away.

"Hey Jill?" asked Leon.

She turned around and replied with a hand on her hip, "Don't worry. I'll be careful."

Leon smiled and shuffled his feet, "Okay."

She walked after the others, soon the squelching squashing sounds of their boots and the mud could no longer be heard. Only silence reign supreme over their ears.

"Oh," said Joseph, "I see we have a little flirtation going down, hmm?"

"Psh, sure thing, Joseph," Leon smiled and turned away to go and lean against the chopper.

"I know it is man!" smiled Joseph, flipping out a cigarette to seal between his lips. He lit it and continued, "You just don't have the balls to do anything about it."

Brad stood nervously by himself, looking around as though every obstacle was a demon with the presence of mind to tear him into shreds. Of course in this branch of the forest, what didn't seem like that?

"Look, Joseph. So maybe there is some attraction, at least on my side, I don't know. I just don't think it would work between us, what with our job and all."

"Oh fuck man, what of it?" snapped Joseph with a grin as he pressed his fingers to his forehead, then tossed his hand back down as he pressed his jabbering on, "I mean honestly, what'd you do? Pin your badge through your dick or something?"

"Blow it out your ass, Joseph," said Leon, "I don't want to hear it. Besides, you know she has more of a thing for Chris. So maybe you're right, she is the prettiest-"

"Hottest."

"Whatever, _hottest _girl in the police department. And so if she digs me, what do you care?"

"Only because you, my friend, have forgotten one very important department of your life," Joseph's expression became melodramatically grim, "You've forgotten about little Leon, and by little I do mean _little_."

Leon smirked and shook his head, deciding it was best to simply ignore Joseph. That had always worked, and it appeared to not fail this time. Joseph continued on, "So what the hell is up with Wesker's shit tonight? Just lock the fucking helicopter, make Brad sit on his pale ass here to watch it, and we go help. But no, instead we've got to sit here waiting around like damn leftovers!"

"He's just doing his job, Joseph," replied Leon, "His tactics were well thought out. He's got good reason."

"The shit he does. And I know why he really did that."

"Oh no," squeaked Brad with a pinch of annoyance, "Not your allegations against Wesker again."

"Shit yea it is," replied Joseph lighting another cigarette.

It was apparent Joseph was nervous, he never was a chain smoker unless he felt insecure. Personally, Leon was surprised he wasn't an eternal chain smoker.

"What are you talking about?" asked Leon.

"I bet you anything that Wesker or someone is a traitor to S.T.A.R.S. and is in on this somehow."

"In on what?"

"The murders! The mansion! Bravo team! All this weird shit that's going down."

"It's a little disturbing, but not weird, I think," said Leon checking his magnum.

"Of course you don't think that, rookie. But look, since when did a pine forest have this jungle type of tree here. And all these plants, they're dead, it's in the middle of summer and they're dead. And what else? Isn't it odd to you that we have no real direct purpose out here?"

"We do though, we have to find bravo team."

"No, no no that's not true. Well, it might be. But see we wouldn't have been in if Bravo team didn't have that heavy of a situation and crash land and all that shit. But they did, the engine malfunctioned, remember?"

"So?"

"So? So I fuckin' worked on that chopper for an eternity with Forrest! It's flawless! We had just finished cleaning and reinstalling parts before they took off. Unless someone rigged it, it couldn't have malfunctioned like that. And of course, whoever did that knew that Alpha team would have to go in next. And then, we get left behind."

"What does that have to do with this idea?" asked Brad.

"I'll fuckin' tell you why. Whoever is behind this doesn't trust you or me, or even Brad. Well no…Brad you're just a pussy. But you Leon, you're new and you're loyal to the system. If you found out what this person's scheme was, you'd shut them down for sure. And who'd wanna fuck with you? And then me, no one trusts me, I'm rambunctious and I am onto whoever this is. They don't want me trailing them."

"Hold on," said Leon, "First of all _I_ trust you. Secondly who is this traitor or whatever? And what's their purpose?"

"They're purpose is that they work for Umbrella, or one of those big companies. Everyone in the underground, like me, knows they were doing some fucked up experiments with a serum that could both cure and destroy the world or some shit like that. If some company like Umbrella could get their hands on that, they would be rich. And the man that got them that would be loaded."

"So then who is it?"

"I'll tell you, but you can't tell nobody. You dig?"

"Yea sure."

"…Barry Burton."

Leon burst out laughing, even Brad snickered.

"Oh what what? Is it that hard to believe?"

"Look…Joseph," gasped Leon between dying chuckles, "I think maybe your perception is wearing a little thin."

"Oh fuck-"

Suddenly a rapid series of gun shots brought their mouths to a speechless halt.

000

Chris and the others wandered into the dark fog. The conversations between the Leon and Joseph soon faded from their ears, and they could hear nothing but silence. No sound, nothing save a gentle whispering wind through the dead trees that glided along. And of course the slapping of mud and water against the hard soles of their shoes. All four of them kept weapons drawn and extended before them in one hand, the white silvery glow of their flashlights reaching out from their other hand. The four of them moved in a square type pattern, the beams of their lights making wide sweeps through the dark forest. Suddenly Chris heard Barry in the distance behind him, "Found the helicopter."

Chris turned reluctantly away from the black forest ahead of him, keeping his eyes sharp and attentive to the blackness that enveloped each tree. But he pulled away and came to the vague figures he could hardly make out through the fog. Jill, Barry, and Wesker all stood staring at what Chris presumed was the helicopter. And it was. The ruined machine, twisted and wrapped about in shards of metal and plants, was nothing short of a derelict. It lay partially smashed into the ground upon the edge of a small meadow, its glass had been shattered and the metal was bent and torn wide. The blades of the propeller were slightly bent, and with gentle gust of wind the blades squeaked, metal scraping against metal. The contents inside the helicopter had been cast out upon the ground, the medical and survival kits were torn open. Boxes of ammunition lay open upon the ground, yet no sign of weapons or of Bravo team.

"Chris," said Wesker as he slicked his reddish blonde hair back, "Scavenge around in the helicopter and see if we can find any bodies or supplies, maybe even evidence. Jill and Barry, check the surrounding perimeters but do not go far. I'll check the forests and this small bluff here."

As the others split apart, Chris stared blankly at the helicopter. What could he expect to find? There could be anything. Nothing in his training could ever prepare him or a situation like this. Last time he checked their wasn't a test or exercise called "react to your dead friends". Well shit, there would be nothing to find if he didn't move. He rose the pistol and flashlight as his rubbery legs began to move towards the metal wreckage. It glared at him from it's position, haunting him with its motionless position. And the squeaking, the gentle scraping of the metal propeller as the wind slowly edged it back and forth. The doors to the cockpit and belly of the chopper remained closed, the incessant squeaks growing as Chris came closer. He reached the door of the chopper and stood, the cold sweat gripping the metal of his gun and flashlight. A deep breath was released from his lips, and Chris slid his flashlight into his belt pouch, freeing his hand to open the sliding door.

It had been jammed shut apparently, so he thrust his foot violently against the handle, and tried again. The door slid open, revealing a dark, mutilated interior. He plunged his gun and flashlight into the darkness of the helicopter, particles of dust floating about in the light. The moment he stepped in, a horrible smell seeped into his nostrils and poked with nausea. It was horrendous, a nearly unbearable stench that overpowered Chris' senses. Yet he searched desperately to ignore it. There were little supplies that remained, and no weapons. So the group had been able to remove that much, they were just short of being able to carry additional ammunition. The indication revealed a possibility that they had left swiftly. Several of the side windows were cracked, but it was apparent that this had not been caused by the wreck. The lining of the cracks was too direct, all leading to minimal points of impact against the glass. But it wasn't a bullet either, no holes could be seen.

Chris brought his gaze around to the cockpit of the helicopter. One of the panes of the windshield was completely shattered, the other lay in ruin as a web of cracks was along it's surface. The glass of the meters upon the dashboard were in tact, so it wasn't the blow that caused the other bits of glass to shatter. So what was it? Then something just upon the edge of Chris' light made his blood freeze within his veins. He stiffened as the silvery light fell upon the pale white, knotted with pink areas and blotched brownish red. It was a hand, and Chris guided his flash light up along the pale arm and short sleeve revealing the S.T.A.R.S. insignia, to the face of Ed Dewey, Bravo team's pilot. His head was laid back limply upon the seat of the cockpit, his mouth partially open and his stare lifeless. His throat had been ripped wide open, the flesh, veins, and arteries torn loose and covered in a dry crusting blood. The skin around the wound had just begun to shrivel, signifying the body's decomposition. One of his eyes was missing, a gaping hole that oozed of a pinkish red substance, the bits of skull stained red with blood. His remaining eye was completely white, but a long series of scratch marks that had dug all the way to his skull were along the eye socket. His helmet was partially torn off, and his head was matted with the sticky residue of blood and bodily fluids as though he had been severely hit in the back of his head and the wound had been suppressed.

"Oh," Chris could not even find words as he stumbled back in horror at the massacre that had been splayed before him.

The horrible smell mixed with the heat of the night air and stung at his eyes, clogging his lungs with nausea.

"Oh…shit," he coughed and stumbled out into the dark night air, "Jesus Christ."

Chris stopped and rested his hands upon his knees, the intoxicating rot had deprived him entirely of clear mind as he coughed and tried desperately not to hurl. His shivered, choking upon the scratchy feeling of nausea, finding every breath a difficult task that he deemed impossible. He reached for his radio but thought better of it, he shouldn't waste the power when his mates were still close by. Suddenly something caught his eye, and he whipped his flashlight into the darkness.

Two eyes, glowing a brilliant greenish yellow, stared blankly at his light, watching him from the shadows. He froze, his finger upon the trigger of his Beretta, his eyes open and fixed upon the eyes. He could nail it from here, right between those eyes. But…but it must have just been some local wildlife. He sighed as he watched it scurry off into the shadows of the surrounding forest. He stared into the forest for a moment, distracted by the darkness about him. His mind began to wander. It made no sense, this entire thing was bent out of shape.

He had not gone long through his thoughts when the feeling of uneasy fear cuddled close to his spine with its icy breath. He turned to face the helicopter, staring at it's mangled scene. Somehow, he didn't know but somehow this held more clues then he had first seen.

It was then that Chris' entire thought process was clamped shut. A long, deep cry howled in echoes around him. It wasn't a coyote…no…the cry was too powerful, too ravenous. No no, stop thinking that, he thought to himself. He had to pull himself together, he was on a murder investigation for Christ's sake. Bravo team was in danger and he was quivering in his little boots about werewolves and monsters. It was time to grow up and check out something in the non fiction section.

Another famished cry, the mournful cry laced with a croaking gurgle that gradually died into the gentle wind. That was definitely, not a coyote. That wasn't even a wolf. Chris rose his flashlight, flexing his muscles to ready himself for anything, if anything. The white blanket swooped over the dead bushes and trees. Chris held his Beretta over the glow, the barrel staring down any shadow that would oppose his flashlight. His perceptive eyes stared at the light as it crawled over the brush. Suddenly a brief pair of those same eyes appeared, and Chris saw the figure of…of a dog? But the beast ducked away from the light, disappearing into the shadows with a grunting snort-like noise.

Jesus, if that was a dog it was one of most built dogs he had seen. That thing was huge. Chris flung the beam of the flashlight around, but the eyes were nowhere to be found again. He kept his light circling round the forest. Another pair of those horrible yellow eyes, and another, glowing against the light briefly before disappearing into the forest. Another howling cry, it seemed to be of desperation as the noise circled about Chris. What the hell was with these big dogs? Did they belong to some local? He had seen four so far, each time they seemed to be closer…and closer. This was not right. No no this wasn't…He shut his thoughts and again sent his light into the forest, staring at the silvery white that repelled back from the fog and trees.

Suddenly an ear piercing howl sounded out, as though it had ensnared Chris' ears in its sharp grasp. The cry made his skin crawl, and he stumbled backwards, swiftly aiming his gun at the shadows that drew closer amidst the fog. The cry lasted long, droning on and on, a raspy sound wrapping itself around the distinct screaming call. Slowly…slowly…it faded, until nothing was heard but a gentle croak. Then, everything went silent. No wind, no cries, it were as though he had gone deaf.

Chris saw it flash before his light. He screamed.


	5. Ch 5: The Mansion

Chapter Five

"Wesker!" cried Joseph, his voice cracking beneath his edginess as he yelled.

The gunshot echoes slowed faded away in a circling motion as slowly the noise suffocated within the tight grasp of silence.

Leon had his magnum out and tightly clutched, pointing the long deadly barrel into the woods. His action was pointless, and he knew it, yet he felt a sense of security knowing the thick heavy weight of steel and lead stood between him and anything. Brad Vickers stood frozen, he didn't blink, he didn't move, Leon wasn't even sure he was breathing. Covered in a cold sweat, the man looked as though he was ill, his skin was white, and his eyes looked black and bloodshot in Joseph's flashlight.

"Hey Brad!" Joseph as he turned to face the frozen man, "Snap out of it!"

A firm sock to Brad's shoulder, and the dull thud woke him from his shocked trance. However it shook him not of his fear.

"Di-Did you hear that! Did you hear _that_!"

"Yes, Brad," replied Leon, trying to swallow his own subtle fear, "We all heard the gunshots."

"No…no no no no th-that scream! What the hell was that yelling sound!"

Joseph had turned meanwhile to the helicopter, the flashlight upon his shotgun's barrel dancing in the fog as he walked to the back and opened the door. Leon whipped back to the woods, his attention drawn by a croaking sound. Or was it a growl? No no, he cannot think that. Leon knew he had to stay focused and alert, he had to keep his imagination in check. The sound of grinding metal against metal as the door of the chopper was shut, and Joseph dropped a small black case on the ground.

"Joseph," said Leon calmly, though it was only an act.

"What?" Joseph…docile as a cow.

"What's that?"

"Shoulder camera. Goes on my shoulder, to record any bull shit we see, in case anyone back at the precinct won't believe what ever the fuck we find out in this shit smeared place."

"Why wouldn't they believe us?"

Joseph looked up at him, his eyes staring blankly at Leon in the white glow of their flashlights, "Would you believe what you just heard out there?"

Joseph was right. It was a noise so diverse from any living thing Leon had ever heard. Even in movies, nothing came close to this. It happened, just before he heard who he thought was Chris' scream and then the gunshots. Leon watched Joseph take out his radio and switch to the proper channel.

"Wesker? Do you read me? Over." he called in, "Wesker, can you hear me? Over."

He allowed the line to remain open, a long draw of nothing but cold static. They hadn't gone far, if they could hear Chris scream then the radio could pick up the opposite frequencies. They weren't answering, is what the static told the three men. They couldn't answer.

"Jill?" called in Joseph, his voice louder and more rushed, "Chris! Barry! Answer me god dammit!"

Leon slowly expanded and released his lungs, trying to relax his tense body. Yet his eyes would do nothing to help as they looked about at the blackness that stared back. Even the sky was black, the moon's light doused by clouds. Joseph was about to call in again when suddenly massive explosions sounded out over the wind. Gunshots. None of the three bothered to count, but Leon estimated six or seven shots had been fired. Rapidly, released immediately one after another. As the echoes ran into silence once more, the three men didn't move. They stood frozen, only their eyes moving about the cold night. Joseph allowed his finger to slip from the button on the radio, allowing the line to be open, and once more the static took reign over the silence. They listened intently, but nothing could be heard beneath the blanket of static that separated them from their companions.

Finally Joseph switched off the radio, breaking away from the horrible static. He stood and mounted the shoulder camera upon his left shoulder, reaching behind to plug it into a battery source that he had strapped to his small backpack. Loading several more rounds into the shotgun, he pumped the gauge once and said with a short sigh, "Let's go."

It was meant to be brave, and somewhat melodramatic; however all that was received was a sound of fear and doubt.

Brad went into a minor panic, "What? Go where? Out there? Joseph are you going out there!"

"No, Brad-"

"Oh thank god…"

"_We're _going out there. Leon, let's load up and move."

Brad was mortified as he watched Leon return to the helicopter to grab one of the few remaining radios. Leon opened the door and reached for the metal cabinet on the opposite side, opening it to reveal a small collection of armaments. He grabbed another clip of the .357 rounds for his magnum. Joseph already had his shotgun in hands, the light blazing at the end of the barrel piercing forth through the dark. Leon followed behind him and as he passed the quivering Brad he said, "Come on, Brad. You can't stay here alone."

"No no no, I'm staying."

Joseph let out a heavy loud sigh as he turned, "No, Brad. Now wipe the sweat off your ass and let's go."

"No, please! I'll stay to watch the chopper! What if the suspects come and…and…and vandalize it? We wouldn't be able to go back!"

Joseph and Leon stared at their comrade, Leon finally saying, "You really want to stay here alone in the dark?"

Despite their persuasions to his fear, Brad had his decision finalized. He said nothing more but nervous mumbles and squeaks as he stumbled back to the chopper and locked himself inside. Leon and Joseph shook their heads as they watched him, the man quivering behind the wheel of the tall vehicle.

"Come on," said Joseph scratching his head beneath the tight bandana, "Let's just get this over with."

Joseph turned his broad shoulders to face the dark woods that had the them embedded in the middle of their darkened shadows. However as he had begun to slosh through the mud, something stopped him. A noise, though it was difficult to say if it had actually been heard. A soft…tingle, not unlike that of a small bell. It rang out faintly then went silent, just barely brushing along the surface of their awareness.

"Joseph…" whispered Leon as he turned towards another dark shadow in the moonlight.

"I know," replied Joseph quickly, "Spread out. You take that hill, I've got this neck of woods over here."

"Right…"

Back to back, the two companions silently began to linger away from the silvery lights of the helicopter. Leon turned back to Brad and slid his finger over his throat, signifying to kill the lights. Brad did as commanded, and lay shivering in the cockpit of the chopperd. Leon turned back to the blackened shadows that surrounded him as he steadily trudged up the hill, noting every muscle that moved so that he would bring a minimization to any sound. His gun held tightly in one hand, the flashlight in the other, perspiration giving the warmed metal room to slip in his white knuckles.

000

Joseph looked around, moving the flashlight up on the barrel of his gun sporadically against every bush and tree. The white, dull glare from the bark of the foliage returned to his intent eyes with a steady glow. It took every ounce of strength to continue moving, every minute power to wrench his light free of one shadow to dispel another. Beads of cold sweat lingered down his forehead, and suddenly he felt one droplet sink into his eye. The stinging pain was so subtle, yet it was a fear of blinking that made Joseph quiver. Finally he broke temptation and lowered the shotgun, rubbing his sore eye in the brief darkness of the night. Just as he lowered his gaze from the forest around him, that sound came like a haunting to his ears.

A gentle ringing, jingling sound. Only it was longer, and larger. He froze before frantically raising his shotgun and squinting with his temporarily weakened eye, dealing with the salty bead of sweat that had placed itself conveniently beneath his contact lens. He whipped the barrel around in the dark fog, looking for any sign of anything. He knew he had heard it, the sound was unmistakable. That wasn't a regular sound, and Joseph knew and understood that he and his companions were not alone. He could picture it…just like that opening scene in E.T. The noise was keys. Jingling keys on the murderer's belt hoop.

All thoughts were ceased as another short spurt of ringing sounded out…growing fainter behind Joseph. It was going away…back towards the helicopter.

000

Brad quivered in the cockpit, alone in utter darkness. Every light had been shut out away from him, and the only source of hope he saw was the faint reflection of his teammates flashlights as they searched the woods. The sky barely shown against the crooked, gnarled branches of the trees. Dead trees…no leaves. Brad thought it weird that there'd be no leaves on the trees, that they'd die so early. Even the evergreens had no needles, and that was weird. But it was undoubtedly some horrific plot, something terribly wrong. Brad had always been afraid, but this topped it all. Alone in Raccoon Forest, at least twenty miles from the city limits, and no goddamn lights. And…and why had Leon and Brad gone to separate like they did? Shouldn't they be heading off east to follow the others?

His thoughts were cut short, interrupted by a jingling sound that crept through the open window of the copilot's seat. It was close…maybe only a few feet away. But Brad could see nothing as he frantically prayed his eyes would adjust to the miles of blackness around him. Another quick ring…and everything went silent. There was no sound of cicadas, no sound of crickets or owls or even the wind. Everything was at a dead stand still, and all attention seemed to be focused upon the cockpit of the helicopter. Brad froze, feeling pricking needles that ran along his shoulders and spine, up to his cheeks and along his arms. It was hot, and he felt brief waves of intense heat swell over his body as he tried not to hyperventilate.

Brad began to feel very aware of the fact that the windows stood cracked, and the doors all unlocked. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the metal a gun in his sweaty palms. His eyes opened, and he looked behind at the back…empty. He turned back around to face the empty shadows and bare figures of the trees. It was just him…and the cockpit's side…mocking him as it stood not more then two inches cracked open. He had to close it…but…but the only way was to turn on the electrics of the chopper. That made too much noise. He couldn't draw attention, the murderers could be right around him now and not even know it. But what if they did…and they were coming closer and closer to the cockpit hatch? It was final, he was closing that window and locking the doors.

He reached over and flicked the switch, igniting the electronics throughout the chopper with a hum. All the buttons, switches, and meters glowed with light as they came to life. The high beam from the search light exploded out into the darkness and Brad screamed as a figure in the lights sneered at him and flew into the forest. His hands quivered as they shook over towards the button for the windows and rolled each one up to the brim. What the fucking hell was that? No no…it wasn't human. Nothing to be afraid of…probably just forest wild life. But…but what was that smell? It was horrible, like rotten vegetables in a compost pile. What the shit! The copilot's window was jammed…it wouldn't close all the way!

Brad turned and stared at it, barely noticing the forest beyond it…the gentle glowing eyes that stared at him. He instead looked horrified at the window as it lay barely cracked open. Technology…always broke down. He turned back towards the headlights' glow…knowing if he just kept to the light all would be safe. All would be okay…just relax. What was that…? A gentle noise, so soft and subtle, he barely noticed it. Yet slowly, the noise began to grow. A short, rhythmic jingling of a bell. Like before only it moved in a motion with a certain beat, growing louder and louder. Building and building…louder and louder. Brad turned off the lights, praying the noise wouldn't notice him. But it was too late, and the copilot's window crashed and shattered open.

Brad screamed and wailed in ostracized fear as a wrenching, stinging pain broke through his vest to his shoulder. In the darkness, he felt the solid clamp upon his shoulder and realized he was being bitten. He hollered as it snapped and shattered his collar bone, blood splattering from veins and arteries upon his cheek. A heavy foot stamped down just above his groin, and he felt the sharp claws dig into his shirt. He laid his hands and face on the horn as he was thrown around by the powerful jaws. Screaming in pain as the teeth in his shoulder began to violently twist and jostle him, Brad felt his fingers grasp the door handle. He wrenched it back and leaned forward, feeling he and the attacker fall into the muddy ground.

000

Leon heard the scream from the helicopter and stumbled as he swerved around, tripping to his knees. He stood and ran down the hill in large bounds, the white from his flashlight whipping around wildly as he threw his arms out, trying to keep his balance as he stumbled swiftly down. Bursting through a dense thicket he fell upon his side into the lights of the helicopter, it's white eyes staring him down in the fog. He lay there, stricken in shock and confusion at the scene, looking past the light at the cracked windshield of the chopper, a spider web of fractures upon its clear surface. The helicopter itself shook frantically back and forth, seeming to squirm around. Leon stumbled to his feet as the cries intensified. The door of the driver's side was thrown open and a clump of tussling figures fell upon the mud.

Leon ran around only to be caught in a frozen fear, a cold horror that struck him to a state of stupefaction. Brad lay upon the ground, twisting and wrenching around in pain, his flailing limbs kicking up mud and water. And upon him stood half a dozen four legged figures. Dogs…they were dogs, and they tore and shook their heads ravenously, pulling the flesh from his arms and legs as they waved around in defense. Leon stumbled back in surprise as a cloud of blood was released into the beam of his flashlight. It was the sudden crunch as one of the dogs drove it's teeth deep into Brad's leg, and with a sudden twitch of its head, the leg was cracked to the side and the bone pierced through his skin.

The gut twisting sound brought Leon to his instincts, and he rose the gun towards the dogs and released slug after slug. He felt them whip through the chamber of his cold magnum and soar away into the cold fog, flying towards the dogs as he blew them away one by one. Yet…the dogs had no reaction as they continued to tear past Brad's flailing hands. The bullets sank into them, whipping into rib cages and legs and hip bones, but nothing past a spray of blood and bits of bone and flesh. Suddenly one of the dog's wide jaws seized Brad's fingers in its grasp and clamped down. Brad cried a high and wrenching octave as his hanging leg was pulled back until it was snapped off. A twisting, breaking, cracking sound rang out as the joint shattered. And the dogs broke through and began to tear at his ribs and stomach. Leon continued to fire until he felt the shots go silent, and he heard nothing more but the horrible sound of flesh being torn apart, and the slow click of his gun. He watched, helpless as his teammate died in a horrible bone shattered blood bath.

Suddenly an immense blast rang out, and Joseph's shotgun roared into the fog as it blew one of the dogs into halves. He burst out of the forest, crying as loud as he could, pumping shell after shell towards the mass of dogs. They suddenly began to whimper and cry, and one by one fell away from the powerful shotgun. Joseph stopped, hovering over Brad's mangled body to watch the remaining dogs scamper away into the forest. Leon was simply baffled at everything that had happened. He had panicked…standard rookie routine. He lost it. Joseph stepped back and sank down beside Brad. Leon didn't move, watching his friend's figure in the flashlights' glow. He watched Joseph's head lower, his bloody fingers touching the shoulder of Brad. He was dead…they had eaten him alive. Dogs…not wild wolves or anything but dogs…had eaten a man alive.

Joseph stood, sniffing in deeply, and said, "Come on. We have to go, _now_-"

He had just finished the last word when suddenly that horrid chorus of howls bellowed into the night, and a soft glow of eyes began to appear in the distant fog. Joseph rose the massive shotgun and fired.

000

"Chris! Head for that mansion!" yelled Wesker.

The two of them along with Barry and Jill scrambled desperately through the thick forest, running as fast as their fatigue would allow them. Chris threw his legs over a hedge, landing in a puddle of muddy water upon the other side. However, It hardly slowed him as he continued to pound towards a clearing in the distance. He looked over his shoulder to see the others pumping their legs to keep up with him. From what the vague glimpse allowed him, Chris could see the soft glow of menacing eyes as the animals galloped after them. He turned back round and heard the smashing cracks of Barry's gun behind him.

Suddenly the forest ended and they stumbled out onto a large open lawn. The grass felt short and wet against Chris' boots as he ran towards the glowering mansion that stood tall against the blackened sky. Behind their pounding footsteps he could hear the panting and snarling cries of the animals that chased them so furiously. Chris stared ahead as he ran through the fog. In the distance ahead two soft yellow eyes glared through the thick fog. They were lights, and Chris prayed to god that it was the house lights on either side of an unlocked entrance. He dashed through the fog, faster and faster. Closer and closer to the lights, almost there. Yes! It was the door. He could see it as he burst up the steps of the mansion's large front porch. But suddenly the mud covering his boots stripped them of all friction, and he fell hard against the sodden, wood porch.

The steps of the porch hit roughly against his ribs as his chin collided with the wet floorboards. His body smacked in full impact and rolled off the side of the stairs into the wet grasp of leaves and shrubbery. He tried to stand but the impact to his senses had jostled his balance, and he stumbled helplessly upon the grass as the sounds of his comrades boots clunked against the porch in a panicked heap.

"In here quick!" came Wesker's cry as Chris heard the door open and slam shut just as he protested.

Suddenly the sound of the dogs clicking paws against the porch was heard as they barked and howled in frustration at their loss. They hadn't seen him. But he was blocked from the front entrance. Well _shit_, he though to himself, let's hold on a second and start a committee about what to do next. He stumbled frantically to his feet, his hands slipping against mud and thick puddles of water, and he began to flee for another entrance, not realizing his Beretta 9mm still lay in a deep puddle. The horrible animals had heard him, and began barking furiously as he could hear them galloping after him. Their heavy paws thumped against the ground, hurling them forward with each heavy thrust against the ground. Their horrible breath a rhythm that sat in sync with the jingling noise of their collars as they thumped closer and closer.

Chris ran frantically along the west side of the house, looking for another door, an open window, even a high fence. Urgently his feet threw him as panic flooded through his brain, washing every hint of logic as he fled. Ahead of him lay the forest, but he didn't hesitate as he burst into its welcoming grasp of darkness. He looked up as he ran to see a balcony extending forth. Silvery fluorescent light glowered down through the trees, casting distorted shadows of leaves and branched upon Chris' shoulders. He ran alongside the wall, and suddenly came to the front of the mansion's end. Desperately he turned the corner, hearing the dogs deep snarling barks. Every window remained shut and no door could be seen. Desperation began to grasp tightly against Chris' heart. He knew what he had to do, no questions asked.

Chris slanted away from the tall western face of the house, putting distance between him and the wall. And suddenly he turned, and allowed a scream to erupt from his mouth as his adrenaline fueled his insane logic, drawing closer and closer to the mansion. His feet left the sunken ground, caked with mud, and he hurled into the air, flexing his arms and jutting out his shoulder as he felt the impact of the glass and wood smash into his side. He slammed into the window, and a deep crunching sound was heard. But Chris opened his eyes in horror as his body squelched back into the mud, falling away from the window. He hadn't broken through. Scrambling in trepidation, Chris stood and again threw his shoulder against the class. He felt it lose tension, bending inwards as the wood of the small window cracked, but again he fell to the ground. Suddenly the dogs rounded the corner, and Chris felt his entire body run both cold and hot down to his fingers. He stumbled back from the window, took a deep breath, and lobbed his body into the glass, and he screamed as he felt his shoulder burst through and fall into the darkness of the mansion's innards.

But he wasn't safe, and he drove through the dark shadows of a long corridor, the shadows of swaying leaves dancing against the wall opposite the windows. He heard the dogs panting behind him as they leapt through the window themselves, just as he twisted round the corner of the corridor. Thank god, there was a door. His hand slumped against the brass, cold handle as he fell in. He threw the door shut and pressed his body against it to hear the heavy thuds and scraping of claws that hated his success fiercely. His trembling, wet fingers stumbled about the door knob in the blackness only to find there was no lock. It was then the pain of a hundred shards of glass and splintered wood perforating his flesh and muscle entered his nerve system, and he cursed loudly in a defeated sounding pain. He had kept himself alive…this long. He crawled pitifully away, groaning and swearing as he struggled in the darkness for a light. At last his hands came to a desk, upon which stood what felt to be a lamp. The switch was found, and it clicked on, illuminating the small room with a dim, golden glow. He took one look at his blood covered hands, arms, and shoulders. Broken glass and the occasional splinters of wood stuck deep inside all over him, and as he moved he could feel each individual piece scraping against bone and muscle.

He looked over his shoulder at the blood trail that had gone with splotches from the stained white door to the desk he now hovered against. It was then he noticed a large splinter of white wood, that had served as a crosspiece for the window, protruding from just behind his collarbone. It was deep, and he could feel it in him. He winced as he reached around and ripped it out, allowing it to fall to the floor. He stared at it in shock, then slumped against the hardwood floor.

There he lay, breathing and listening to the sounds of howls and scrapings against the door as it rattled on its hinges. At last the sound ceased, and Chris allowed his body to ease as the defeated sounds of clicking paws against the floor wandered away. He began to doze into sleep, for blood loss was severe. For a moment, he reckoned he was at peace.

However, just as his eyes closed, he heard the door creak slowly open, heavy panting and footsteps that drew near. He couldn't move…too weak…he was helpless.

000

Jill quivered with adrenaline as she fell to her knees in the darkness of the mansion. Behind her she heard the heavy click of the doors being locked and Barry's wheezing pants. They were blanketed by a warm, stuffy darkness that smelled strongly of must and decay. It must have been a large room, for every footstep and breath seemed to echo. A dim, dark orange glow of candles hung upon large brass stands intricately shaped and structured. Upon them she could see the white, thick cobwebs clinging between their spiraled feet and the floor.

Jill heard the heavy footsteps of Wesker, Barry, and Chris behind her. She however, was far too horrified to move like they did. What they had seen had stung deep in her. The dogs…they had killed Dewey; according to Chris they had _eaten _him. She hated dogs. it was a phobia that had leeched onto her mind since childhood. A horrible fear of dogs that was birthed when she was attacked by a stray mutt on her sixth birthday. Ever since that day a deep sounding bark would be enough to make her quiver. And she despised it…however there nothing was to be done but to wait for her legs to return from their rubbery feeling.

Jill's thoughts were silenced by Wesker's voice, "Found a switch, I believe."

There was a heavy click, and gradually a rusted chandelier adorned with many lights and cobwebs came to light the large room in which they stood. It was the main hall, and it was coated in cob webs and dust and lined with old age. From the front doors they had all just burst through led a faded, crimson carpet that ran up to a set of wide dark oak stairs. Jill allowed her eyes to follow the stairs that led up to a large mural hanging in the shadows of the far wall. From there two more staircases going in either direction wound about to an upper balcony that circled the walls oft he main hall. Jill looked past the bright chandelier, up towards the ceiling that lay in blackness. There was another mural on the ceiling. As Jill stared, she saw angelic figures upon thick billowy clouds. But then as she looked closer she saw they were crying. They were screaming, gaping mouths and squinted eyes all surrounded by their chubby little cheeks.

"Jill."

She snapped out of it and turned to look at Wesker who looked down at her. Stumbling to her feet, Jill managed to look back at him through his black sunglasses.

"Is everything…all right?" he asked coolly.

"Yea…I'm fine," she said turning to Barry, "Barry?"

The large figure of Barry stood hunched over, his back facing them as he stared at the main doors. It was only then that Jill realized the dogs were still there. The heavy shaking and banging rattling the doors upon their hinges. Barry stood, and Jill couldn't see his expression in the dim light.

"Barry?" she asked gently.

"Chris is still out there," he said immediately.

Oh no. Jill looked around desperately as though she didn't believe it at first. She didn't. Chris couldn't have been gone, he was right there; he was right in front of her for Christ's sake. But he was gone. He wasn't inside.

"He must not have made it in…must've slipped," said Wesker, a small hint of concern amidst his calm tone.

"No," said Jill, in shock she traipsed towards the doors, "Wesker, we have to go out for him-"

"Jill no!" his commanding voice stopped her cold, "We can't open those doors again."

"But we've got to find-"

"No! Jill, you know as well as I do we have to follow rules of safety and conduct. If Chris has fallen, god forbid, but if he has then there is nothing we can do. If you open that door you will be endangering yourself and others, you can_not_ do that."

Jill sunk away, he was right. She'd almost broken a rule of conduct, and that alone would have gotten her in so much trouble with the chief. Thankfully Wesker "fails" to mention those certain issues that his officers so rarely have. But Chris was still out there. He was gone, and as far as she knew he might already be dead. Jill looked about the mansion, trying to get away from those thoughts. She needed to keep her mind focused on survival now. She looked at the room. The immense, dimly lit room. The remainder of the floor was bleak white tile that was stained brown from dust and water. Everything else was dark oak. The walls that were lined with squared and rectangle designs, the doors that lay in the shadows beneath the balcony above them, and the spherically carved and shaped pillars that supported the balcony. All of it was polished, dark oak. Only it was all littered with dust and cobwebs, sunken and decrepit by old age. Shadows loomed where light could not, and danced where they could in the dim flickering candle light.

"We need to find a way out of here, now," Barry finally spoke, coming alive and turning away from the door, "We have to radio Brad and the others, that way they can come and pick us up and we can find Chris and come back."

"Right," replied Wesker.

Jill wasn't sure, but she thought she saw a strange look in Wesker's eyes as Barry had spoken. She knew what it was. Wesker was never one to think with hope, he always thought systematically, always with logic. He knew that Chris was probably dead, the chances were against it. But if he were to mention anything about that to Barry, the man would be driven insane. Chris and Barry went way back, farther then Jill knew them. Wesker was quick to evade a topic as this; he stuck to a different road of mind that followed the same direction as Barry's, just not the same path. But in truth, though Jill tried, she couldn't be the same as Wesker. She cared too much about the other S.T.A.R.S. members. This was too much, it was too sudden.

"Wesker, can you contact them with your radio? Use the long frequency," said Barry.

"Yes," said Wesker reaching for his left chest pocket.

Everyone, everything froze as Wesker paused a moment, then began to frantically search his other pockets.

"I, uh…I must have lost it when we were running…" Wesker said in a ridiculously calm voice.

"No…" Jill sighed in anxiety.

"Shit!" Barry was losing his head.

"Now everyone just relax, nothing to become excited about yet."

Excited. Nowhere near the proper word to be used.

"We just need to find a phone here," said Jill quickly, "It's a mansion, there should be one."

"But we don't know if there's one that works here. You heard the reports, the city lost all communication with this place. The lines are down here," Barry was becoming more and more desperate as he spoke.

"We don't know that, there could possibly be working phone lines here," Wesker replied sharply, "and we don't have much choice but to find out."

The three looked about the mansion, noticing for the first time several sets of double doors.

"Jill, Barry. Check that first set over there, I'll secure this room and the upper balcony. Meet back here in five, and I want you searching for only a phone. Do not go past whatever room is behind those doors. Now move out."

Jill once again readied her Beretta, sinking the flashlight back into it's case upon her belt. Barry followed close behind, holding the glinting python close to his face as they trudged towards the doors on the left side of the main entrance. They came to it, and Jill immediately followed procedure and slunk her back against the wall to the left of the doors. Barry nodded and pressed his body against the door. There he listened for a short moment before violently turning the door handle and thrusting it open. He slunk down low and to the right with his gun pointed at whatever, Jill followed to back him up as she whipped her gun around the open door. Nothing. Well, no _one_. It was a dining room.

Jill walked in and closed the door behind her, Barry already examining the room. The floor was the same as that of the main hall, white tile crusted with stains and old age. It was a long room, and in the middle stood a long, old table. To their left as they entered, the wall was lined with square, dark oak pillars, and between each pillar was a narrow arched window. Jill immediately walked towards it, in hopes to see Chris somewhere. But she could examine nothing but darkness and fog, the glare of the hanging chandeliers against the glass further blinded her view.

"Jill, I think we should stay away from the windows, ya never know," said Barry uneasily.

"Oh, right."

Jill turned back to the room to examine the dining table. At only one seat, a set of china sat. A bowl upon a plate, surrounded by an assortment of forks and knives and spoons, a napkin, and a broken wine glass. Crusted imprints of wine stains lay upon the inside. There was nothing upon the plate or in the bowl. Cobwebs hung from everything except the wine glass. The table itself was covered in dust, the actually color of the wood was undeterminable. And in the middle of the table, upon a raised platform, stood a row of candles. Their flickering light was the only movement in the room. Jill eyed Barry who stared in observation at a painting beside a tall grandfather clock.

Jill let her defenses ease as she walked around the table to join him, and immediately her defenses rose back up. It was a painting of two knights, dressed in frilly clothing. One in green, the other in red. They were fighting, and one had a stiletto type dagger driven through the others stomach, the other pierced the first's head with a rapier. Both stood shocked and infuriated amidst a cluttered castle room. How strange it was. The painting itself was chipped and old, the paint was cracking and the frame dented and scraped. Barry moved on down the long dining hall.

Jill looked above her again, past another balcony. A creaking noise was heard, as old wood was forced to move under pressure, and Jill's gun was raised. But she could see no figure in the dimness above the dining hall. It would have to be checked later on.

"Jill, you'd better come and take a look at this."

Barry's voice was brewing with concern as Jill jogged over to where Barry knelt at the far end of the dining table. There, at that end of the room, a fire place lay with a steadily burning fire still inside. Someone most have been here recently, a fire could not have been going on for as long as they had been without contact with the Spencer Estate. It had been nearly two months now. But that was not what Barry remained concerned about. There he knelt over a large puddle that gleamed in the firelight.

"What?" Jill asked, but she knew.

"Blood…"

Barry dragged his fingers into it and raised them again, feeling it between his thumb and fingers as he stared deep in observation. It was sticky and thick, as though it had been there for a while, almost like a gelatin as his oozed back down towards the puddle of the sticky mass.

"And look at this," Barry pointed to a large blood splatter against a white marble pillar beside the fireplace.

"Who ever this blood came from, they were hit here. Violently too."

"Mm-hmm. This is a splatter shot, looks like the victim was hit pretty hard. I'm guessing in the head."

"Yea. But look how low it is, the victim was already stooped low from another injury."

"Or maybe the victim was put here..." Barry looked over towards the fireplace.

Jill followed his gaze to see crude symbols scratched upon the floor. Then above the fire place, two swords lay hung across a small shield, both of them crusted with dried blood stains upon the blades.

"Dark occult rituals?" asked Jill.

"Maybe. Wesker or maybe Rebecca would know more about this then I would, but that's my guess. Maybe a sacrifice…sick little shits…"

It was rare that Barry would cuss, and only when he deemed appropriate. This was definitely a good reason. Jill looked up again at the balcony, that loomed over them. She could see nothing past the several chandeliers that hung below the balcony railing, nothing but faint glimpses of maybe furniture or something along those lines. She looked over at the walls and windows of the dining hall, and spotted a single wooden door. It looked as though it would fall apart, the wood was rotted and splitting, and the doorknob looked loose.

"There might be a phone in there," Barry thought aloud, apparently following Jill's glances.

"Yea. But we should stick to the commands," replied Jill looking down at the blood, "Come on, let's report back to Wesker."

The two of them trudged quietly back down across the side of the dining table towards the doors they had just came through. Jill noticed that all the while they walked, Barry kept a tight glare at the narrow windows along the wall, holding his gun steady. They quickly walked back into the main hall, Barry shutting the doors behind him. The two of them looked about the main floor, Wesker wasn't there.

"Wesker!" Jill called.

"Yes Jill?" Their commander's voice from the upper balcony gave them a sigh of relief.

Wesker's figure appeared at the top of the stairs, and serenely trudged down the steps, his gun in one hand as he eased down.

"Find anything?" he said blatantly.

"No phones," Jill replied.

"But, we did find blood," Barry added quickly.

Wesker looked placidly at the two of them, as though he was not even surprised. Figures. At length he spoke, "Blood."

"It wasn't fresh. It was cold and had begun to dry," Barry replied, Jill noticed he kept trying to wipe his fingers on his pants, ridding them of that sticky feeling, "It was splattered in a way that the victim was struck heavily there. It was by a fireplace. And on the mantle there were weird symbols and markings. Maybe our suspects _are _a cult like chief assumed."

"Possibly. I found more blood stains up here as well. There are some along the walls and carpeting, whoever fell up here suffered massive blood loss."

"Something doesn't add up, Wesker," Jill finally broke in.

The three of them were silent as they all stood in the middle of the main hall, darkness edging in around them. A brief bluish light flashed from outside, and immediately was followed by a massive boom as thunder echoed throughout the mansion, shaking the walls. Jill continued, "Something doesn't fit in here, I can't figure it out."

"What do you mean?" Barry inquired curiously.

Jill couldn't help but notice a frown grow on Wesker's face as she looked about trying to sum up enough information for a response.

"I don't know why. But it just doesn't all piece together right. We are chased by dogs in packs, just average house dogs who hunt?"

"Yea…I think I may have seen a Chihuahua," Barry said trying to lighten the situation.

Jill only glowered at him before continuing, "Then Chris just vanishes somewhere between that front yard and those doors. We don't hear gun shots or him yelling at the door, he's just gone. And then there's this mansion. It's just so…"

"Spooky?" Barry cut in.

"Right," Wesker interrupted Jill's thoughts, "Well look. There is nothing more that we can do but to accept that it is odd and work with what we have. So, here's how it's going to go down. We need to find a phone, or maybe a form of transportation. Surely this place should have a garage somewhere. Anyway, so we split up. Jill, I want you checking out that door that's kind of imprinted with the rest of the wall at the top of those stairs. Barry, you check the doors on the right side of the main floor. I'll go through that set in the shadows over by the balcony."

Jill nodded as she looked towards her destination, a huge mural was painted upon the wall, though she could only make out vague figures in the dark.

"Now, here's the hard part. I want everyone to report back in this room every fifteen minutes. If we find this place is too dangerous, we stick together. But as of now we know nothing, so it's best we stay separated to cover more distance. Every fifteen minutes I want to see you back here. Now let's move, and move quickly."

Barry turned away towards the doors opposite that of the dining hall, and Jill watched him for a moment as she and Wesker treaded the stairs. Barry gently rattled his shoulders, shaking his head as he walked away from the light into the darkness. She felt a sudden worry, like he would go missing. She stopped walking, looking at her huge teddy bear of a friend lumber over towards the doors. She felt desperate, fearing the worst for him, and she felt herself cry quietly, "Barry?"

He turned and looked at her, and she could see him trying in vain to hide his fears.

"Be careful," she said, only it sounded like a plea.

Barry nodded and gave a loosely thrown then turned and continued towards the door. Jill turned back up the stairs to see Wesker waiting for her by the large mural. The door became more obvious as she crept near, as did the painting itself. It was figures of ancient medieval times, and they were all bent over a dying knight, who lay pierced by several black arrows. They all looked mournful, but as Jill stared at them longer she saw something else. Their eyes, drooping and ringed with weariness as though they'd been drained of life, their eyes stared up towards the sky rather then down at the fallen knight. Their hands, which at first appeared to be in the form of praying, were twisted with the fingers awkwardly bent around one another. She shivered and tried not to notice them, looking instead at Wesker as she reached the platform at the end of the stairs.

He looked at her and smiled, "Don't worry Jill, everything's going to be fine."

This was a new side of Wesker, and Jill was surprised to see it. But she smiled and nodded.

"Take care," he said as he turned away quickly.

"You too," she replied, though even that sounded pathetic

She had to face it, she was scared shitless. But no, she had to remain calm, keep the cool Jill frame up. At least act cool. She turned towards the door that was imprinted in the mural, covered just by the knight's legs and blood puddles, and she opened it. The cold air from outside gushed in at her, and she glimpsed a bright outside light that glowered over moss covered stone steps that led down at the left towards whatever. She took a deep breath, hoping to god there was a very high fence there, and began to step out. What happened next happened extremely fast.

"Jill get out now! Agh!" Wesker screamed from behind her.

Jill hesitated, turning to see what was the matter but she was shoved out by Wesker's muscled arm just as he released the booming cracks of his Beretta. Jill stumbled out into the darkness to hear the door slam shut behind her, the bolt sounding as it was locked.

"No! Wesker! _Barry!" _Jill screamed. throwing her body against the door as a cold fear shriveled against her skin.

She stopped and felt frozen as the sounds of Barry's muffled screams cried out before quickly being silenced. Then An eruption of gunshots as Wesker cried Barry's name. Then suddenly all went silent. Jill listened as she felt tears run down her cheeks, her eyes shifting quickly around her at the forest behind her, at the door, at the door handle, at the light, anything. Nothing, nothing could be heard but the sound of a faint cicada buzz in the forest. Then she heard it, extremely faint but it was there. It was a voice, Barry's voice, just on the other side of the door. He was groaning, but he was talking. And another man's voice. She listened and could hear Barry say, "No don't…my family."

The man's deep, suave voice only replied, "Hush now, shhh…"

Barry continued through a grunt, "But…why-"

A single gun shot echoed, and all fell silent. Jill listened, she could hear nothing.

"Oh god…no," she pleaded pressing her face against the cold door.

Suddenly the lock upon the other side clicked loudly, and Jill stumbled back in fear. Oh no, it was him. The killer, he knew she was out here. She stumbled away frantically, turning towards the stone balustrade and leapt over it just in time to hear the door's rusty hinges groan and squeak open with a sudden thrust. She landed upon a stone path in the darkness below and pressed her body against the wall of the stairs, listening as she heard the heavy breathing just above her. Silently, she crept into the shadows away from the light, into the weeds and grass that lay to one side of the broken up stone path, her eyes all the while watching the visible breath that floated into the cold. A head that slowly turned back and forth as it looked. As it looked for her.

She waited, staring at that awful silhouette in the light of the lamp that stood upon the stairs, rolling his head back and forth. Finally he turned, and she heard the door squeak and slam shut. He locked it, but she could easily blast it open. She could get back in and maybe if Barry and Wesker were still alive…no. Even she knew it. She was alone now.


	6. Ch 6: Monsters

Yet another chapter finalized and edited for your reading pleasure. Hope you enjoy, and please let me know how you enjoyed this one, I particularly focused on the humor between two of the characters. It should be obvious as to who they are. Thank you, and please review.

* * *

Chapter Six

"Well…it's not locked…" Joseph said with a sigh.

It had been nearly and hour before Leon and he were able to find their way through the forest. After Brad had been attacked by the dogs they had ran as quickly as possible, ran for nearly fifteen minutes before they felt it was safe enough to reduce to a brisk walk. Heading Southeast, according to Joseph, would lead them to the mansion. Yes, and after about an hour of searching through dark forest only to find they had circled around the mansion twice before coming to its back gardens. They had scaled a tall, black iron-wrought fence to stumble upon a massive collection of tombstones merged in tall, slowly wavering grass. Walking along a twisting path of rough stone, they soon came to the back of the mansion. It was massive, and a stone staircase that jutted to the right then up to a rear door stood before them. Standing tall upon a black post was a bright light. Its blaze gleaming down upon their shoulders as it stood surrounded by an aura of fluttering moths.

Their stood a single door made of iron, beaten with rust and mold from weather. The lock was missing, and a series of gaping holes stood where it should have been.

"Do you think this was a gun shot?" Leon asked as he examined the hole.

"Dude, I know it's a gun shot. I just hope it was one of ours, and that they're still alive in here…whatever the hell this place is."

"It's the Spencer Estate."

"I fucking know that. I mean, well just look at it. Does this seem like a cozy get away to you?"

Leon didn't reply, but instead was busy reloading his Desert Eagle. Joseph was inspired to check his shotgun, and did so for a moment. Leon finished first and waited patiently until Joseph had loaded and was ready. Those images from back at the precinct continued to perforate Leon's mind, stinging at his senses. Whoever murdered those poor innocent people were in here. He knew it. Joseph stepped back and violently thrust his foot into the door, a horrible rusted sound of squeaking hinges echoing as the door was flung open. Leon burst in and fell to one knee, aiming the powerful magnum into the putrid smell of must that hit his nostrils like a brick wall. Joseph followed with the shotgun, whipping it around as he hopped in. Light from the outside flooded in behind them, stretching their shadows across the floor and down a long staircase into what looked to be the main hall of the mansion. Leon could see what he assumed to be the front doors, across the hall from them in the dim flickering candlelight.

They relaxed. Nothing was there. Joseph shut the door behind him and did his best to hold it shut, still remaining somewhat paranoid of the dogs that wandered the outside. Leon eyed the entire room, suspicious of every movement as the light from the candles danced upon the walls with shadows.

"Check the main floor," Joseph muttered, "I'll get the upper balcony."

"You picked the easier one," Leon snapped.

"Oh what? You want the one with all the dark shadowy stuff, fine!"

"No, I'll take this floor."

"Fuck you, man."

Leon began to tip toe silently down the wide staircase while Joseph ventured up a staircase to the left, disappearing from the light below. Leon reached the main floor and felt a sudden rupture in the thick billows silence as a flash of lightning illuminated the room before a massive crack of thunder followed. Leon stumbled, and felt his boots squeak upon the tile floor. He looked down to see his boots stood in a puddle of blood. With his eyes, he followed a sort of stream that led from the middle of the stairs down to where he stood, noticing the splatters upon the railing and the pillars around the staircase. Kneeling down, Leon slid his hands across the puddle and felt it with his fingers. It was new; the blood was still very much in a liquid state. Jesus, it was even warm.

"Hey Joseph," Leon called.

"_What! _What the fuck man! You scared me!"

"I found blood down here, it's new."

"Yea," Joseph's panicky voice calmed, his voice cracking as it did so, "I found some of the nasty ass glop here too. It's dried though, been here awhile."

Leon looked around the surrounding room that seemed to ebb in with darkness.

"I say we found our killers' hideout," he murmured.

"Yes…and isn't it a lovely little summer home with a nice arrangement of not too modern not too old fashioned architecture with just a hint of European twist…_fuck_…" Joseph murmured to himself as he began to head down to the main floor.

"Hey, do you think we should split up? There's a lot of doors to cover here," asked Leon as Joseph hopped down the stairs.

"Oh yea, hey and while we're at it, I can leave little notes to you saying how much I miss you and gossiping about the latest jeebies in this shit hole," Joseph sputtered out as he rolled his eyes.

Leon was not amused, "You know Joseph…I wonder if the murderers here really _are _cannibals…do you think maybe they sauté their food before eating it? Or just raw?"

"Dude…I will sauté your ass and feed you to any cannibals if you don't shut the hell up. That is _not _funny."

It was a well-known fact that any horror movie such as _Dawn of the Dead_, or _Night of the Living Dead _put Joseph in a state of trembling fear. Anything to do with the feasting undead in massing hordes terrified him.

"Oh what Joseph? I think you're ass would taste much better. It's so uptight and…perky…"

"…You did not just call my ass perky."

Leon shrugged.

"That's it Kennedy, When this is over-"

Joseph stumbled back into silence as an abrupt series of gunshots echoed from one of the sets of double doors. The two men stood stiff, staring at the door as though in a state of petrifaction. They looked at the doors, eyes wide half expecting another hint of danger to sound out. However, Only the flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder called.

"Shit…" Joseph whispered.

Leon gulped, praying to god he would be all right and he would find help. Help…there was no help. He knew it, he was the help. He was now a S.T.A.R.S. member. He didn't give a shit even if this place _was _infested with zombies, it was his job to secure everything and everyone. Leon swallowed his fear, exhaled, and his boots began to clunk across the tiles towards the door.

"Wai-wait Leon," Joseph stumbled after him, "Dude. What are you doing?"

"Joseph, we have go to see what that was."

"No no, wait just wait. We can't just barge in. We should wait for back up, and then find a way to sneak in."

Leon sighed, "Joseph. You are a S.T.A.R.S. member. You are a proud member-"

"Well not necessarily, I actually wanted to be a vet-"

"-_a proud member _who's every duty is entitled to protect and serve the innocent. What does S.T.A.R.S. stand for?"

"Dude, come on-"

"What does S.T.A.R.S. stand for?"

Joseph sighed and grumbled, "Special tactics and rescue squad…"

"Exactly. And yes we're in a spooky mansion, surrounded by maybe over a dozen murdering cult cannibals. But what is that? A special situation in need of special tactics? And what are we here to do for our comrades? Rescue them. Because we are a rescue squad."

"Yea…yea you're right. Okay Let's do this."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"All right."

"Yea let's do this"

"Hell yea man let's go!"

"Let's fucking do it dammit!"

"Shit yea! All right!"

"Yea!……you go first."

"Ugh…Joseph…"

Leon reached for one of the two doors, the brass handle covered in dust. He nodded at Joseph who stood not far behind, shotgun ready, and thrust the door open violently. Leon dropped to his knees as he entered, thrusting his gun towards anything that moved. Joseph followed immediately, whipping the shotgun around in frantic swooping motions. It was a massive dining hall, and it was empty. Hesitantly, they began to explore the room.

"Nothing, this place is kinda fucked up, man," Joseph remarked as he gazed at a painting of two knights stabbing one another simultaneously.

Leon didn't reply, he only began to walk down along the table towards a crackling fireplace that stood in the far wall. The fire flickered and twisted amongst its flames, setting a yellow glow upon the black and white tiled floor. All the while Leon stared to his left, watching the windows and the blackness that lie beyond them. Never in his life had he been so suspicious of windows as he was now. Joseph followed behind, touching and prodding everything as usual. They came to the fireplace and watched if for a moment, allowing the heat to warm their shivering bodies. Leon had broken into a cold sweat, his heart still trying to manage and pace itself after the incident in the woods. Brad…he hardly knew the guy. It was so shocking to realize that now he'd never get to know him. The actual shock had only set in a few moments ago, and Leon had found it hard to breathe. Brad was dead, he was eaten alive by…dogs. Just ordinary household dogs.

"Leon, there's a door here. I bet the gunshots came from here."

"Yea…unless they came from up there."

The two rose their heads to gaze at a balcony, blanketed entirely in shadow so that only a dark oak railing could be seen. Despite his suspicions of anything that was up in that darkness watching them, Leon turned towards the door. It was best to start with what's nearest, and He gingerly opened the door.

"Leon wait!" Joseph's words started as a cry but immediately fainted to a whisper as the door creaked open.

The door groaned as it was opened to reveal hallway that immediately went to the left or right. It was dark, very dark, but Leon and Joseph stepped in, closing the door behind them. The hard wood floor creaked and groaned beneath them as they stood for a moment in the hallway. The walls were lined with the ugliest of wallpaper, a stained yellow with floral designs upon it, and tacky tables occasionally lined either side. A single lamp hanging from the wall cast a weak light upon them. To the right down the hallway it was completely black, and at the very far end they could see a faint light from another lamp. To the left the hallway went towards an open window draped with large, tattered curtains, and then the hallway turned sharply right.

"Let's go left," whispered Leon.

They turned towards the open window, and crept quietly down the hallway, every step of theirs causing some part of the floor to squeak under pressure. They reached the corner where the hallway turned right, and that was when the smell became evident. It was horrible, a thick hot stench of rot that burned at their lungs and nostrils. Leon's eyes watered, the smell lurching in his throat and making him gag. He stared at the window, feeling gusts linger through its opened mouth into the room, the curtains wavering and floating out upon the wind. A thick bush of some foreign tropical plant rustled from the wind as well, gently swaying to and fro. Leon looked at Joseph, who shook his head, sweat slipping down his cheek.

Leon took a deep breath, and spun around the corner, the barrel of his gun facing down a small couch and chair, and the end of the hallway. Oh wait no, a small alcove lit by a single bulb to the left revealed another door. But Leon had not the time to concentrate on anything else, as he stumbled over a rough bend in the carpet. Only when he touched it the carpet made a squelching sound. Leon looked down and gasped, stumbling back into Joseph who in turn stumbled away in the wall. It was Kenneth Sullivan. Or…what parts remained of him. His mangled body lay staring blankly up at them, his eyes a milky white and his mouth lying ajar. His legs were thrown to one side, and his arms lay sprawled out beside him as though he was pinned down. His throat had been ripped open as well as his stomach and part of his chest. His ribs lay exposed, broken and twisted away. His heart and several other organs cast out in a bloody mess upon the carpet. His gun lay upon the floor, and Leon knelt down to feel the barrel.

"Still warm, it was Kenneth who fired those shots," Leon muttered over his shoulder.

"Jesus fucking Christ…"

Leon looked closer at the arms of the carcass, and he could see deep teeth marks, or just large chunks where the meat and flesh were torn out.

"Just like the other bodies…" muttered Leon, "Joseph I think we found where the killers are…and I really think they are cannibals."

There was no reply. No noise. Nothing, everything was completely silent. Then he heard it. A soft wet, rattling sound, like someone breathing through a stuffed up nose, stuffed up with snot.

"…Joseph?"

Leon became horribly afraid to turn around, he simply stared at Kenneth's mangled carcass, his heart racing as his breath became short. "Joseph…"

But shit he had to. Leon rose to his feet, and slowly turned. Oh Jesus Christ. He felt every bit of blood freeze in his veins, hishands becoming numb as they clasped his gun. A man stood before he and Joseph, a tall bald man, his silhouette shone against the moonlight from outside the window. But Leon could see him…see his face. White, milky eyes lined with blackish purple rings, a cold, pale face with skin that was shriveled up and twisted upon his skull. From his nostrils dried blood and torn flesh hung, his lips cracked and ripped open. No…he didn't have any lips, and he stared at them with a maniacal grin, his gums black and his teeth yellow. The rattling sound was the man breathing through his mouth as blood and mucus seeped between the cracks of his teeth with each and was sucked back up with every inhale. He turned to both of them, looking back and forth, his head loosely jostling with every turn he made as though his muscles were not quite attached. Then suddenly, he lunged at Leon.

Leon screamed as he felt the man's teeth sink into his shoulder, his cold wet body falling on top of him as he stumbled atop Leon. He bit at him, chewing and scraping against his shoulder blade. Shit he was trying to eat him! Leon frantically through his foot into the cannibal's knee, and it gave with surprising ease. The knee snapped with a sickening crunch, and the man fell to the floor, groaning and snorting furiously. He tried immediately to reach his meal, bony white hands grasping at Leon as he tried to stand. But suddenly a horribly loud blast from Joseph's shotgun and the man's head was splattered against the far wall in bits of brains, fluid, and bone.

Leon and Joseph stood silent, staring at the fallen corpse and each other. At length Joseph spoke, "Leon…was that a zombie?"

"What?" was all Leon could manage, his breath flustered as the pain surged in his shoulder.

"I think that was a zombie, Leon…" Joseph said as he pumped out the shell from his shotgun.

There was no longer any question about what it was. The thing could not have been human. At least not any longer. It _was _a zombie. But somehow it was worse. It was unlike any zombie Leon had ever seen in those cheesy films. And how did it get to be like a zombie. How could a zombie be real? Whatever it was, the stench was sure enough real. When Joseph had blasted the thing it was like he'd hit the core of that entire horrible, rotting pong. The smell burned the entire room, and the more Leon noticed it the more it seemed to grow.

"Shit, Leon. Sorry it took me so long. You both all got mixed up and…fuck man I didn't want to blast you. You all right?"

"Yea, I'll live. It's not that bad, I just need to maybe find a can of first aid spray and some bandages or something," Leon murmured as he stared at the bloody corpse upon the ground.

It was hideous, and now that Leon could see it more distinctly he felt even more nauseous. The skin upon what remained of its scalp was dried and cracked, peeling away to reveal a reddish brown stained skull beneath. Its clothes were tattered and torn open, stained with black and crimson, and its body lay contorted in an odd way that seemed nearly impossible.

"God dammit. Jill and Barry have the aid kits," it was apparent Joseph was furious with himself for not helping his friend sooner, "Let's try and find them or try and find a phone."

"Right. But while we're at it, I want to try and figure out what's going on here."

Joseph nodded and ushered towards the door that hid in the corner of the alcove, "Come on, let's go."

It was an odd thing, how Joseph worked. He was such a wimp for a police officer when it came to venturing into any place with any amount of danger. And yet, when one of his companions lies in the line of any such danger, Joseph becomes nearly one of the bravest. It was like it fueled him, and Leon wasn't entirely sure to take that as a positive or a negative trait. Nevertheless, Leon followed Joseph as he opened the door, only to reveal, if this is a shocker, more darkness. It was another long hallway that went straight forward then jutted off to the right. There were no lights, and only the moonbeams from the windows could light up their path. Against the opposite wall from the windows stood the shadows of leaves against moonlight, slowly wavering against the white wall.

Leon lingered down the dark hallway, his fingers upon his gun tense and littered with sweat. Through the windows he kept a constant watch, but he could only see forest. He and Joseph reached the wall that ended before the hallway turned right. They stood quietly in the shadows, listening to a strange noise. It was a squeaking ring, repeatedly sounding off. As though something was swinging. Leon looked at Joseph who shrugged passively, but his eyes remaining tense. Leon was about to spring out when he felt Joseph's hand grip his shoulder, and it made him jump.

"Leon, I wanted to tell you this earlier," Joseph said, looking around as though he was mustering up his words.

Leon gestured with his arms and said, "What?"

"Oh man, it's just that. I really don't think I shoulda worn this thermal underwear."

"Joseph…"

"I'm serious!" he hissed, "It's really hot under this vest and shit, and dude…it's starting to chafe-"

"Enough said."

"No seriously! Do you have like some spare underwear or something?"

Leon just gave him a look of annoyance before turning around the hallway to investigate the strange squeaking noise. Immediately he was met with a rather bright light that shown from an open room at the end of the hallway. The light from the room moved along the wall, back and forth back and forth in sync with the squeaking. It was the chandelier, something had recently jostled it and it now swung docilely from the ceiling. Leon entered the room and immediately noticed a mirror beside a birdcage upon a table.

Feathers lay strewn across the table, and a dead raven lay inside the birdcage. The wallpaper had changed, to a repulsive color of olive green and white vertical stripes. Dried bloodstains were sprayed across the wall, brown crusting stains. Leon suddenly gasped as his eyes settled upon yet another mangled body. It wasn't one of the S.T.A.R.S. members. The corpse lay crumpled against the wall with a massive blood spatter just above him, as though he had been violently thrown. Leon gulped as he stared at the figure; his head lay with a heavy gash across the forehead going through the matted, wet hair. His skin was dotted with black and green stains, dried and cracked similar to that of the zombie they had just seen. Zombie. Leon still couldn't quite cross over the fact of what he had just been attacked by. Joseph entered the room and immediately whipped the shotgun towards the body.

"Joseph don't!" Leon said, bringing a finger to his lips.

"I want to make sure each one of these fuckers are dead!" Joseph was focused completely upon the mangled body, his shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath.

"Then do it another way, just without so much noise."

Immediately after Leon said that, Joseph grabbed a scrawny table upon which stood a cracked vase with dead flowers, and toppled it over. He broke off one of the thick legs and began to savagely beat in the body's head. Leon watched as what remained of the blood still inside slopped out in sticky masses upon the floor and Joseph's boots as he sunk the skull in with the heavy leg. It seemed so wrong, so disrespectful. Yet they had no real choice, they didn't know if the body would come back as…as a zombie.

Joseph finished his task and turned toward Leon, wiping drops of blood from his cheek. He looked past Leon, and Leon turned to follow his gaze. A stairway hid in the shadows, it led up towards what Leon thought to be a door. The two followed it up, and immediately Leon felt a cold draft as they reached the last step. A window above them against the far wall lay hung open, and outside they could hear faint howls rising and falling with the wind's cries. Leon shrugged it off and turned towards the door, looking briefly at Joseph before they opened it. For now it was best to keep calm and collected, and screw off the "procedure to properly gain access through a door". Enough of this kicking down doors bull shit.

The next room, to their liking, was well lit. It was a hot room, immediately they felt the warmth of hundreds of candles that lined the crusted, stained walls. The room gave off a strange orange glow that a room always does when filled with candles. It smelled strongly of thick must and smoke. Ahead of them was one door, yet another hall branched off from the one they were in, and bent left and around a corner so that they could not see what lay down that path. The hallway was tight, cramped. The air was stuffy and hot.

"Joseph, we should split up."

"Yea, agreed."

Leon was surprised that Joseph was willing to go along with his proposal. But he didn't question as he continued, "I'll take this door ahead, you go right and see what's down this hallway. I'll come back as soon as I can, that or you just head after me."

"All right, just be careful."

"You too."

The two separated, and Leon could feel the tension of security begin to strain under the pressure of them growing further apart. Leon walked to the door, hearing Joseph creep around the corner of the hallway. Then he turned, opened the door, and slipped inside.

Joseph took deep breaths of the hot air as he heard Leon close the door behind him. He slunk around the first turn in the hallway to see a mirror propped up against one wall, surrounded by various boxes and pottery. The mirror was positioned in such a way that he could easily see what lay down the hall as it turned. But shit, the mirror was cracked. So, quietly again he slipped and whipped around the corner. Nothing. Well, nothing of any threat. It was a long, narrow hallway. And a weird one. Littered with random paintings covered in white sheets, and statues of those creepy angel children with the curly hair and the fat faces. And then, along the walls, rows of golden spear shaped objects were lined on either side.

Joseph shrugged, screwed up place. He began to tread down the hallway, listening to every creak and groan the mansion made as he moved. He half expected the entire floor to fall through, but it held somehow. Another mirror sat in the corner at the end of the hall, which yet again turned off left. Keeping the butt of the shotgun locked in his shoulder, Joseph moved cautiously. Any zombies. Any at all. And he'd flip. He knew it, Leon knew it, and those zombies _will _know it. He reached the mirror and looked down the hallway that turned left, there was the end. A door dead ahead of him, a mirror propped up beside it, and another door to the right of the first. Goddamn, he needed a cigarette bad. Joseph's fingers twitched, and he began to head down the hallway, when he heard Leon open and close the door at the far end behind him.

He smiled. Thank god Leon was back. Enough of this splitting up shit, Joseph knew he shouldn't have agreed to it. Only another few minutes and he would have had to ask Leon for a clean pair of pants as well. What the hell? He'd heard the door close, and then nothing. The sweltering hallway was completely silent, where was Leon? The idiot was probably tying his shoe or making sure his wallet still was properly organized. Joseph cleared his throat and said, "Oh Leon?"

Suddenly a guttural snort was heard, and Joseph's heart nearly exploded. Not Leon. Then it came, like a roll of thunder or a drum roll. A barrage of pounding feet that beat against the floor as they tore down the hall. Joseph rose his shotgun and waited, listening as the thumps grew closer and closer, faster and faster. He heard the clinking of metal, of chains as they dragged across the floor beside the incessant pounding of feet. Then he saw it fly around the corner, and it saw him and roared. It wasn't human. It wasn't real. But it came flying towards him, coming towards him like a nightmare as it ran screaming. Joseph screamed desperately and blasted a shell out towards the demon. Her shoulder just twitched, barely even twitched back as an explosion of crimson and black erupted there. Her long, disfigured arms seized him by the shoulder as he tried to fire another shot, and Joseph felt his body being hurled into the air.

He howled in pain as he felt the back of his head, shoulders, and neck slam painfully against the mirror in the far corner. He smacked down upon the floor, and coughed in horror as the wind was knocked from him. His shotgun had left his hands; he was helpless as he scrambled to his knees. His hands went to the back of his head, to feel the blood swelling from beneath his bandana. He looked towards her, towards the monster and was frozen in fear.

She was licking her shoulder wound, a long greenish black tongue protruding from her sickly mouth coated in saliva. The tongue slithered and slopped across the open wound, a blackish crimson mush of tissue and muscle with bits of shattered bone, surrounded all by horrid wrinkled skin of black and brown. He listened to her whimpering groans beneath her long, black scraggly hair. Snap out of it. He had to wake the fuck up and get out now! Stumblingly away pitifully, Joseph scrambled to nearest door. Looking over his shoulder as his fingers tugged and twisted at the doorknob. Oh no no no, shit no! It was locked! Of all the fucking doors, this one had to be locked.

Joseph glanced over at the other door in the corner, and then over at the monster. She stared at him now, hunched over, fingers wriggling with anticipation and want. Slowly, she began to walk towards him. Joseph threw his body limply towards the door, his head dazed and spinning from the blood loss. Desperately crawling, he reached the door handle, turned it and stood as he pushed against it. Yes! It was open. He stepped out of the boiling hallway to see that he stood upon the balcony above the dining room that was just in. Joseph turned to close the door just as he heard her scream horribly, a cry of agony and lustrous rage. Joseph turned just to see the monster's contorted fingers grip his throat and dive with him over the railing of the balcony.

The two of them plummeted from the balcony, and Joseph gasped for air as he tried to scream. Then an abrupt and horrible pain smacked into his back as he collided with the edge of the table, hearing the monster land beside him. Her grip was loosened, and Joseph stumbled away free. Weapon, where the hell is a weapon? But his escape failed as he felt the chains dangling upon the monster's wrists smack into his temple, and he fell to the cold marble floor. For a moment all lay silent and spinning, and he was utterly alone.

Then slowly he surfaced to consciousness to feel the hot breath of the monster as she stared down at him. Her eyes. Her horrible eyes as they glared wildly at him, driven by hunger. Golden Yellow eyes, wreathed in black and a deep dark red, covered by her dark hair that slithered across his cheek. Joseph was hopeless; he could do nothing as he saw her reach for something. Oh shit no…no…but he watched as she revealed a long, thick rusted hook. She held it over his face for a moment, letting the feeling of utter horror seep into his body. And suddenly she drove it into his chest, just beneath his collarbone. Joseph screamed and choked as he felt the dry, rusted hook being driven up beneath his collarbone and out the back of his shoulder; the black steel scraping his shoulder blade.

The monster rose and lifted him up by the hook in his shoulder, grunting with pride. And she dragged him away, letting her prey scream and kick hopelessly as his collarbone was slowly bent and pried at in its sockets.

000

Chris' eyes sputtered, gradually coming to as he splashed through the blackish waters of his unconsciousness. He felt a cold hand upon his arm and he thrashed weakly, trying to get away.

"Chris, stop! Relax," came a light, and shaky voice.

Chris was taken aback. Where the hell was he? Oh Jesus his head hurt, it felt like it was full of lead. His entire body stung, for that matter, and he could barely breathe without having something twinge in pain. He was in a bed, his bed with the girl he met at the bar. No…no that was last night. Well he was in a bed, and he wanted to know who's and how drunk he'd gotten to forget about going home with some girl. Oh god…he hoped it was a girl.

"Chris? Can you see straight?"

Okay thank god, it was a girl. Wait no…that voice sounded familiar. Oh no…he didn't. Not with her. Chris' vision cleared, and it took him a moment to realize that he hadn't come home from any bar. He was in that mansion, in the room he had blacked out in. And the first thing his eyes trained on was the soft, young face of Rebecca Chambers, a look of relief in her smile.

"Yea…my eyes are a little bit off but I can see," Chris replied after several moments of looking around.

He was in some sort of drug room. Shelves stood against the wall of the cramped area filled with bottles of different sizes and shapes. He lay in a bed along side a desk, a lamp hanging over him and illuminating the rest of the room.

"I'm glad you finally came to," Rebecca said touching a damp cloth to his forehead, "You lost a lot of blood."

"What? What are you…oh yea…" he remembered the window, and looked down to see he had only his white t-shirt on.

The shirt was stained with blood, and he had heavy bandaging all up and down his arms and shoulders. A deep, stinging ache tugged at his shoulder, and he remembered the large splinter of wood that had gone through. Yet, oddly enough, despite his weakened state and the mild pain, he felt fine. It was incredible; he hardly felt any pain at all. Just very dizzy. He turned and grinned at Rebecca before saying, "Wow, I feel great, you really are a medical prodigy."

She blushed a little, and Chris was glad to see she held some emotion in her. However despite the little smile, Chris noticed something about her. Something that wasn't right. It was her eyes. They looked dark and lonesome. They looked afraid. They looked around nervously. They were no longer the eyes of a sweet, innocent girl that Chris had met just not too long ago. Something had poisoned those eyes. Something had disturbed her. She looked broken now, defeated and jaded.

"Rebecca," Chris said as he held a kind yet firm gaze into her eyes, "Tell me what happened."

Immediately she tore away from his stare, looking down at the floor as glossy tears swelled up around her eyes. She bit her lip as her gaze shifted around the room as though looking for something solid to cling to as everything else melted into her tears. Chris felt awful asking her, forcing it out of her; but he had no choice. He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Rebecca," he whispered, "It's okay now. Nothing more will go wrong; I'm here to get you out, that's our specific order. Screw the mission, we're here to get you."

She looked at him, knowing it wasn't the truth, knowing he'd want to still venture deeper into whatever horrible secret this mansion hid. He could see it all in her solemn eyes. She wasn't naïve. She nodded and whimpered between her sniffles, "I know. I just…it's so horrible…"

Chris watched her with guilt as she put her hand to her mouth, trying to push down the tears as she breathed slowly. At last she was ready to speak, "The helicopter had to make an emergency landing because of some engine failure. I was thrown out in the crash, and so I was separated from the others. I began to search through the woods when, when I heard their screams and the guns shooting. I tried to follow the noise, but they were everywhere. That was when those dogs attacked me. They chased after me and I thought I was gone when suddenly Enrico and Forrest appeared out of nowhere. Forrest killed the dogs and we ran because they said there were monsters in the woods and we had to keep moving.

"We finally came here to the mansion at dawn, and inside the main door we met up with Richard and Kenneth. Richard was injured, and he had lost his radio, but told us he had managed to make a distress call in before. I patched him up as best I could. They said...they said that Dewey was dead; the dogs got him. But Enrico told us to keep the mission in our heads. So we split up then to try and find out all about what was going on. I stayed with Enrico because I had lost my gun and he wanted to keep an eye on me. So he and I, along with Richard, went into the west wing of the mansion. And…"

She trailed off, not crying, only silent. Chris looked at her, and saw her staring desperately at the ground, staring as though the memories were flooding into her mind. Memories she didn't want. He could see that even with him there beside her, Rebecca felt alone and defeated.

"Rebecca?"

"We were attacked. Enrico and I managed to get in here, but they dragged Richard off. We waited for his screams to stop, and we could hear them killing him. He screamed for over an hour, Chris. They didn't kill him for over an hour. Finally it all went silent, and Enrico said he would go and secure the area and make sure everything was all right. He never came back. And I waited in here, all day and all night until I finally decided that Enrico wasn't coming back. So I left to look for the others, and that's when I heard you come through the window. At first I hid, thinking it was one of _them_, but I saw you, and I saw the dogs. They didn't see me or smell me, and when they left I came in to help you. And that's where we are now…"

Chris watched Rebecca as she sat beside him on the bed, tucking her legs tightly against her chest and resting her chin on her knees as she slowly rocked back and forth. She was just a kid, just a girl. Damn, and she had seen all of this.

"Rebecca, I know this is hard, but I need you to tell me something. Who are the murderers?"

"What?" she looked shocked that he would ask that.There was a brief moment of silence before she finally spoke again, "You need to rest Chris. You should try and get some more sleep, I'll keep watch-"

"Rebecca tell me right now, who are they? Who took Richard away-"

"NO! They're not real, Chris! They're monsters! They're not real!" she screamed horribly, tears flooding into her eyes as she stood and backed away into the corner.

"Rebecca…just calm down-"

"They're not real! They took Richard away! I heard them! I heard them eating him! I heard him screaming before they tore him apart!"

She slumped into the corner, cupping her hands over her mouth as she stared blankly at Chris, remembering it again. He could see the pain, the anguish in her eyes as she thought of whatever stung at her. Chris slumped out of bed and stumbled to her, collapsing by her side. He put his hands on her shoulders and whispered, "Shh, relax Rebecca. Everything is going to be all right. But you have to tell me, are the murderers cultists? I need to find out all I can."

She could only shake her head.

"What then?"

Her response was muffled, weak, and it squeaked out of her as she said it. But Chris heard it, and he sighed as he knew he could ask of nothing more for now.

"Monsters…" she whimpered, "They're monsters…"

000

"Aw, poor Leon. All alone now aren't we? And you don't even realize it," came a mocking, cruel voice from the shadows.

The silver glow of the dozens of monitor screens about the small control room illuminated only his silhouette. The man sat in a large, cushioned swivel chair, his feet upon one of the desks of the tiny control room. He smirked coldly as he watched one of the screens, staring at the tiny figure of Leon Kennedy travel through the dark hall.

"Of course you wouldn't know, someone as green as you would never be alert as to hearing your own friend's screams as he died. You always were a rookie, and Wesker did such a job of placing you on S.T.A.R.S. What a fool that man was," the man took a swig of his brandy from the small silver flask he held, "And yet, I am impressed with how Joseph fell. The man was well trained. Despite his arrogance, he was somewhat aware of my plans and me…though not of me personally. So I am happy he went first. Yet, what surprises me more is how Lisa disposed of him. She was phenomenal, out of all the other subjects she has faired the best in the hunt, showing extreme prowess in all branches of her bloodlust. Of course, I haven't had a chance to release her mother yet, now have I?"

He watched Leon disappear around a corner and begin to walk up a flight of stairs. The motion switching cameras for that hallway remained fully aware of his presence, allowing the man to see him wherever he went.

"Oh yes, the mansion's eyes are mine, Leon; and I will dilute your sanity little by little until I have you crawling on all fours like a wretched dog," he cackled, his wild eyes staring at the screen.

Suddenly he turned, staring at another dark figure that lay crumpled against the far wall of the room. The figure was bound by rope, a massive gunshot wound in his right bicep. The man sneered as he stared at his victim, upset that the buffoon had worn a protective body vest to stop the other bullets from turning his heart into a bloody scarlet flower. Yet now that he thought of it, he was rather happy the man was alive. It was good; no no…it would be perfect. The man smiled and said deviously, "Well Barry, what do you think? It's your choice, which one of your friends should I kill first?"

Barry rose his head to gaze furiously at the man who grinned back. Yet his burly rage was contained by his weakness, and he could only glare quietly.

"Make a choice, Barry," the man's playful smile faded, "Make a choice or you know what will happen."

Barry stared maliciously, yet he said nothing. The man's smile again grew, only it was laced with a sick twist this time, and as he spoke his voice taunted Barry, "Can't you just picture it, Barry? A troop of elite soldiers inside your little home in suburbia, surrounding your beautiful wife and two daughters. All I have to do is make a quick call on my phone here if you refuse to bend to cooperation. And you know what happens then…"

Barry's eyes narrowed, his looked at the man with burning hatred and disgust. Yet the man continued to only smile back as he imitated the voice of a little girl, "Please officer no! No don't! Please no! Don't hurt me!"

The man suddenly jumped out of his chair, snatching the large radio and dropping it beside Barry's legs as he himself hopped down and squatted before the large man. He leaned close, right in Barry's face, and Barry could feel his hot, repulsive breath as he whispered with a chuckle, "Haha-I can hold the phone right up to your ear so you can listen. So you can listen as they beat your little girls…listen as they rape your wife. Would you want that to happen, Barry?"

Barry let his head drop, his breathing growing louder and louder as he tried not to explode with rage.

"I asked you a question, boy."

"No," Barry growled.

"I can't hear you…"

"I said _no_!"

"That's better," he said as he hopped to his feet, "So then, who will it be? Which one of your friends do you want to die first?"

Barry looked away from the man, his gaze lowering to the monitor screens. He couldn't choose, Jesus he couldn't do it. The sweat dribbled down his face; his temples pulsated from the searing pain in his arm, and the tormenting hatred that brewed in his mind. Hatred for himself. It stabbed at him, prodding at his gut, but he knew whom he wanted to pick. Maybe his victim would forgive Barry, maybe he would understand. He nodded towards the monitor screen.

"Him," he said shakily, swallowing the lurch to cry.

The man turned his head back to the screen, then around again at Barry. He got real close this time, so close his nose just barely touched Barry's, his eyes glaring wild with a manic frenzy in them, "Say it, Barry. Say his name. I want you to say his name, his full name. Realize whom you're killing here. Realize who's going to die because of _your _decision."

Barry's bottom lip trembled, his head quaked under the pressure, and he couldn't breathe. But he thought of his family, he had to think of them and how much he loved them. What he would do for them, it was his vow as a husband and a father. He opened his dry mouth; his lips chapped from dehydration, and shook in agony as he whispered, "Leon Scott Kennedy."

The man pressed a single button in the midst of the other hundreds, and grinned as he said, "So be it."


	7. Ch 7: The Virus

Yet another installment in this gripping horror. Please enjoy, and be sure to review (even if you don't find it to you liking)

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Chapter Seven

Leon felt cold as he entered the long hall, he felt death. Immediately he knew something was wrong with this room, though he didn't know what. It seemed somehow separated from the rest of the mansion, it was so plain. So basic. Before him a tall, narrow staircase led up and then abruptly to the right. He took one step forward and froze for a split second, a shadow passing over the right of his back.

His reaction was immediate, and he leapt away, turning in the air and landing with the magnum staring down the figure. It was a suit of armor wielding a large, mirror like shield. Smooth, Mr. Kennedy, very smooth. The knight seemed to stare down at him, even without its eyes, it glared through the array of tiny holes in the rusted metal helmet. He rolled his eyes and was about to step away when he noticed the words upon a plaque on the shield. It was covered in dust and cobwebs, and as Leon cleared them with his hand he felt the cold, coarse feeling of words engraved beneath his fingertips. As he read the words he felt a cold chill trickle down his spine and prick at his hairs. This room was definitely not right, and he knew it as he read them again:

Death is only the beginning

Leon rose his eyes to again stare at the face of the knight, who looked back at him ominously. However, despite what it read, Leon's conscience would not allow him to simply walk away. He just had to remember: bravery is ignorance to fear, that's all it is. So, he inhaled a deep breath of the impure air, and began to draw up the stairs in wariness. With each breath he could feel the dust choke at his lungs, and with every step he made, the dust itself seemed to cloud up from the floor. It was thick with dust; in fact there was no air, only dust. Leon reached the top of the stairs to find a second statue, again to his right. He glared at it, though in a more horrified sense then he had hoped. It hovered over him, nearly twice his height. However its shield was what stung at his gut and bravery the most. It was covered in nearly a dozen long blades, each a foot in length. They were dulled, nicked, and crusted with a brownish stain that Leon had already come to recognize easily. He looked just above the blades to find yet another inscription. He didn't use his fingers to wipe the dust away, definitely not. No touchy near the sharp blades. Instead he blew it away. The engraved letters spoke again, and Leon could not help but be pricked by the feeling that these were the words of a madman:

Death is the true essence of bliss

He stepped away, his boot sliding across the slick, dust covered tiles, but as he did he tripped and stumbled over something. Leon stumbled back against the wall and looked down, half expecting a pile of bones. But no, it was something that was much more solid both against the ground and in his gut as it settled uneasily. A track, hidden in the dust, a long track that wove around the bend in the hallway.

"Why do I do this?" he asked himself, as if he knew.

Regretting every footstep, every bit of energy wasted, every heartbeat, and every dust-bitten breath, Leon followed the track. Leon noticed how tight and cramped the hallway felt, and how the cobwebs seemed to dangle down almost tauntingly at him. He came to a lighter hallway, illuminated by fluorescent lights and gas lanterns along the ceiling. As Leon quietly lurked down the passage, thick coats of cobweb dangled down and brushed over his hair, face, and shoulders. He tried to brush them off, but there were too many and he soon gave up and allowed them to cling to his skin. Leon followed down the dark hallway, and it was not long before he came to a tall pedestal that stood up to his chest. It was completely rusted over save for the mirror-like finish upon the face. There was a circular indentation upon the pedestal, roughly the size of Leon's fist, as though something should sit there. But whatever it was, it was gone. Beneath the imprint was yet another inscription. Leon knew he wasn't going to like it, but he read it anyway:

May thee find peace in death

Suddenly a loud, mechanical whining noise echoed from behind Leon and made him turn and back against the pedestal. It was a sound like a screwdriver, only enhanced a hundred times louder and draped in loud snaps like gunshots. Every cobweb above Leon fluttered in a sudden gust of wind that blew against his face. Then behind him a loud clanking, ticking noise like that of gears came tromping up. Leon turned about to find another massive suit of armor rolling up to a stop just behind him, massively tall so that it's head nearly scraped the ceiling. The pedestal that once stood before him began to sink into the ground until it was no more then a tile.

Leon gulped and read the inscription on the last suit of armor, and felt his heartbeat pound along with the drilling noise that grew louder behind him. His quivering hands reached forward and brushed away the dust from the engraved words, and they read:

Death is everything

"Oh shit," he muttered as he turned back around to face the growing noise.

And then it appeared. The second suit of armor, alive, or at least moving. It drove towards him upon the track, the blades upon it's shield spinning and whining in a glinting blur. Large needle like spikes protruded from the helmet and stabbed in and out, and two axe like blades swung to and fro at the sides of the suit of armor. Leon's eyes darted to find the end of the track, and he saw they were directly at his feet. He couldn't back up, there was only the last suit of armor, he couldn't shrink away, he couldn't slink against the wall or anything. He was trapped. Closer and closer the blades came, their furious sound of mechanized roars driving towards him in a fluster of unreal anger. Suddenly Leon saw his escape, but he would have to be fast. How far were the blades away from him? Fifteen feet? Ten? It was too fast to calculate. And Leon decided that the best method was simply to screw it. He holstered the magnum in his leg pouch, turned towards the massive statue behind him, and leapt up. His fingers gripped just the edge of the shield, and Leon pressed his feet against the wall, pushed off, and grabbed the shoulder. He scrambled up, gripping the helmet itself while turning to see how close the blades were. He didn't need to look as one of the spikes drove pricked into his thigh, and Leon could only wince as he clambered up the rest of the way. He turned and leapt without hesitation, without even looking, hurling himself into the cobwebs and dust. Over the blades and suit of armor he fell, and slammed into the hard tile floor behind it.

Leon grimaced at the pain in his thigh and shoulder, but there was no time as he heard the metal screech and scrape together. Suddenly the whining died for only a second, then a matter of clunking gears sounded. And it started back up again. Coming closer again. Leon turned to see the blades in reverse, stabbing, swinging, and spinning out at him yet again. It was moving backwards, and Leon frantically stood and sprinted down the hall, the suit of armor gaining on him with every second. Closer, closer he flew towards that bend in the hall. Shit he wasn't going to make it. He slammed into the wall just to feel the hot rush of the electric gears and pumps on his back before he dove to his left. Into the air, over the stairs he flung himself. For those few seconds everything moved in the slowest of motions as Leon watched the stairs grow farther away from him as he flew. Then they began to get dramatically closer, until he smacked into them and rolled down towards the floor and into the door he came through. He was safe, and he knew it as he heard the electric, screaming engine die behind him.

The young man panted, letting his back drop against the cold wall. He looked down at his thigh first and sighed. The wound wasn't deep, he could tell from the blood, in fact it had only just pierced the skin and muscle, maybe only a half inch deep. It was nothing, mostly shock that had got him at first. His shoulder was next, and that ached. It was nearly a ten foot drop that he had fallen, and on his side. How could he have been so goddamn thick. Yes, smooth Mr. Kennedy always walks away from anything. He may be limping and crying like a little girl, but he's walking away.

Well whatever, it was time he and Joseph regrouped and they explored the mansion for the other S.T.A.R.S. members. Leon stood, limping, and stumbled out the door into the hot hallway he was previously in. He took one look at the suit of armor at the top of the stairs, and wondered with curiosity. How the hell did it know to turn back like that? To come after him no matter what until he got past the tracks? It didn't make complete sense, but Leon was given a lingering suspicion that he and the other S.T.A.R.S. members were not alone. Someone was watching them, and the more Leon thought about it, the more certain he became of it.

"Joseph!" Leon called, "Joseph! Come here, I think I've found something."

He was quiet for a moment, then he added mockingly as if to taunt whoever was watching, "Come here and dance in this hallway, it's fun!"

Bastards, whoever he, she, or they were. He hoped the cameras watching him (if they were cameras) had sound so his viewers could hear that. All right, now where was Joseph? He wasn't supposed to leave the hallway. Leon hated it when the dolt didn't follow simple orders or instructions. He was always getting himself or Leon hooked into the worst situations. Leon stumbled with exhaustion around the corner that Joseph had gone down, the sweltering heat from all the candles stinging at his eyes and skin. He rounded the right about the next corner and stopped. Joseph's shotgun lay there. Oh no. No no no, not Joseph. Not Joseph…

Leon jogged over and collapsed beside the shotgun. Joseph loved this gun, as pathetic as it was he did, and he wouldn't leave it anywhere but in his hands on a mission. Leon acknowledged the growing lump in his throat and heart as he felt the barrel. It was still hot. Why didn't he hear it? No, Leon didn't know if Joseph was dead or simply taken away. He could have got the gun knocked out of his hands and run off. He could of simply dropped it when he was chased and not realized it. Or maybe-…

Leon's rational and irrational thoughts were cut at the throat when he saw the dark crimson splatter upon the wall. Leon stood, gripping the shotgun tightly in his hands, he looked down at it. A Winchester 1300. The shoulder strap carrying six more shells. The feeling in his gut made him choke up, but he couldn't break now. He had to bottle his emotions and get out of here rationally, taking all the survivors with him. Joseph may still be alive. Leon pumped the shotgun once, and headed down a darker bend in the hallway. A shattered mirror lay propped up against a corner, trails of blood trickled down its glimmering shards.

Leon saw that the door at the far end remained open, beyond it the balcony to the dining hall that he and Joseph stood together not longer then twenty minutes ago. Leon stepped out onto the balcony and closed the door behind him, looking at the broken railing littered with blood. He stopped moving, listening to a crunching noise coming from below. It crackled out for a second, then went silent as though it knew he was listening. Leon stepped away from the edge of the balcony. It could be Joseph, it could be his killer. The thought clouded Leon's mind with anger, and without thinking he suddenly threw himself over the railing. Down past the chandeliers he fell, landing heavily upon the table. The fall immediately forced him to roll, and he landed again on his feet upon the tiled floor. He whipped the shotgun to face the fireplace. Nothing. He turned to the doors leading to the main hall. No one. He was alone, and the thought didn't entirely please him. Then he saw it, first upon the table, spilling down upon the floor on the other side. Leon walked around the large dining table, staring at the blood that lay splattered and mixed in with the white and black marble tiles. Jesus. There was a trail of blood, smeared along the floor as though Joseph had been dragged off.

Leon held the shotgun closely as he followed the blood trail to the end of the hall, watching it go beneath the double doors. Joseph could be on the other side of those doors, dying in agony. Leon took a single step back, and slammed the heel of his boot into one of the doors, swinging it wide open with an echoing crash. He leapt in, the shotgun prodding it's nose in first to sniff about for prey. Lightning flashed and threw a white grin over every shadow in the massive hall, immediately followed by the thunder that roared from beyond the mansion.

Nothing, and the blood trail led off to the left behind the stairs, slowly diminishing against the floor. Joseph was losing blood and fast; Leon had to get to him. The trail led off into the shadows, going down a dim stairway, and then disappearing. Leon couldn't tell, he couldn't see in the flickering light. It was down there, whatever took Joseph was down there, and somehow Leon assumed it was no longer human. The rookie cop stared at the shadows that ebbed out towards him in the candles' light, breathing deeply to allow his tension to calm itself. However that act proved useless as a door at the far end of the hall opened and Leon nearly felt himself faint as he jumped and turned the shotgun.

Jill stood there. Her shoulders shrunken with fatigue, blood smeared upon her cheek. And her eyes, her eyes ringed with the redness from tears and horror. True horror. She stared at him desperately, and gradually he felt himself returning the exact same stare.

"Leon?" she said, as though it wasn't really him.

"Jill!" he exclaimed jogging towards her, "Jesus what happened to you?"

Jill could not have been more happier to see the rookie standing there, covered in sweat. He ran towards her and she tried to step but her legs couldn't allow it any longer. She'd ran so damn much, she just let herself collapse to her knees, her empty handgun dropping from her clammy fingers. Leon was by her side in seconds, checking her vital signs and to see she wasn't injured.

"Barry," she choked from her dried throat, "Barry and Wesker are dead."

She didn't have to look at him, she already knew what his face would look like. She'd seen it a hundred times before, only now it was different. Now she really knew fear, she really knew what it was like to quiver in the grime and filth as your heart beats heavily against your ribs. Only Leon didn't say anything like she had expected the rookie to do. In fact he utterly surprised her as she felt his muscular arms wrap around her shrunken shoulders. Was he comforting her? And what the hell was she doing excepting it? Oh she didn't care. She was so worried about everything she just needed someone to care for her. She just wished Chris was there.

"I found Kenneth's body. And Joseph is gone," he finally spoke, "I found his blood trail here and I was following it. There's something very wrong here, Jill."

"I know," she said gently pushing him away but letting her hands be held by his. She noticed his fingers slightly quivered in hers. She looked at him sorrowfully, knowing he and Joseph had been so close. He couldn't bare to look back in her strong eyes, he only stared away blankly.

"Jill, those murders…they weren't done by humans. I know you're not going to believe this, but I think this mansion is housing-"

"Zombies? Yea, I know," she said as he helped her to stand up, "I've run into two of them. But I know that there's someone here that is human. Someone murdered Barry and Wesker, Leon. I heard them kill them both."

Leon agreed, and he explained to her his theory about someone watching them. That was when she noticed his injuries. They were bad. Really bad. She noticed his shoulder first, "Leon! You're shoulder-"

"I know…one of those monsters. It's fine-"

"No, it needs to be checked, sit down again and I'll look at it."

She pulled him down forcibly, taking off his royal blue vest. The skin had been partially torn, and puncture wounds lay scattered on the muscle. The blood had nearly soaked the entire grey t-shirt, and she quickly applied an antibiotic spray and bandaged the wound.

"You went on?" she spoke suddenly as Leon watched her tend to his shoulder.

"What?"

"You kept going, even when you were this badly injured. Why?"

"Well, I mean I didn't have any medical supplies. And I wanted to find you…you and the other team members."

Jill paused and looked at him, gazing curiously towards his emerald eyes that darted away from hers. What did he mean by that? Well never mind it, they had to stay focused on the mission right now. But as she thought of it she somewhat blushed. Even if it was only out of friendly concern, it was nice to know that someone wanted that badly to find her and the others. Finally she finished and said, "Well, anywhere else?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Oh yea? Then why's your leg bleeding."

"Oh, small puncture wound from the trap I told you about."

She nodded and gave a gentle spray of the antibiotic into a large torn hole in his pants where the wound was.

"There's no point in bandaging it up, it's already healing anyways," she said.

"Yea," replied Leon, "What about you?"

"Oh I'm fine, just a few small scratches," she said wiping the small bit of blood away from her cheek.

He really was considerate. Leon stood and again helped Jill up. There was an awkward silence, and it wasn't because of some odd connection between the two of them. There really wasn't one. No, but it was that this was a safe place. They felt safe together here, and as Jill watched Leon put his vest back on, she knew she didn't want to go back alone.

"Leon, let's stay together," she said, "I think it'll be safer."

"Yea, I think the mission is pretty much over. Let's just try and find the others then get out of here. Do you know where Chris is?"

He didn't mean it, but his question stung her deeply. Chris…

"I-I don't know. He disappeared somewhere outside the mansion when we came in."

"Don't worry, it's fine," replied Leon, "We'll just look for him and the others as well."

"All right."

"Okay…"

Another awkward silence, they simply didn't want to go back. Who could blame them?

"Where should we start?" Jill asked.

"Well, I've already covered most of the west side of the mansion and that's clear. You've already covered most of the east side, and seen no one. Let's start down there," he said pointing to a doorway that led down behind the stairs which lead to the upper balcony.

Jill knew he was trying to continue his search for Joseph, but he had good reasoning behind his suggestion. Quietly she nodded, hoping to god they would find the others soon.

"Oh, here," he said reaching around to his holster, "Take this."

It was Leon's gun, the desert eagle. Barry would be beaming if Leon gave him that. Jill smiled her thanks as he handed her the last magazine that was left. The rookie then turned and began loading shells into the shotgun. Jill shoved the last clip into the handle of the gun, and cocked it. Leon pumped the gauge of the shotgun once and said, "All right. Let's go."

000

"God dammit!" the tall man was furious, "That callous son of a bitch outmaneuvered _my _trap!

Barry watched the madman with disgust, however he was still in relief. From what he had seen on the control panels there were only four more traps, and a very unlikely chance that his friends would run into all of them. So far everyone was safe from this sadistic bastard. Barry had watched Leon, watched him move so perfectly around those blades and statues, begging for his friend's survival. The guilt that flooded Barry's veins was immense, and it stung at his every breath. But he was glad that his actions had done no harm yet. Suddenly the man turned towards him, his wild red eyes glowing down at Barry in the blackness, his muscled body silhouetted by the monitor screens.

"You thought that to be rather enjoyable, didn't you Barry? _Didn't you!_"

Barry said nothing, he only sat and stared at the maniac with and expressionless face. The man leapt towards him and squatted right down into his face, "You think you're better then me. You think you've won. Allow me to refer to you, the ignorance of your assumptions! This has only just begun, and I am going to make you suffer until you realize that I am indeed better then all of you. As you can see, it has been…biologically arranged."

His muscled and veins upon his arms rippled and clenched as he said this, and Barry was repulsed. However his head was still light and throbbing from the blood loss in his arm, and he felt dazed and weak as it was.

"Yes…look at you. How diminutive and pathetic you are," the man cackled, "Suppose I am a bit of a sadist. We all are in some way. And after all, did you see how the Lisa project took Joseph? How it tortured him before stabbing him?"

"You sick bastard…when I get my hands free-"

"Ah ah ah, first it's _if _you get your hands free. And even then, I still have this little phone here. All I have to do is dial a number…"

Barry was quiet. Those things he said, about the soldiers and his family. He couldn't let them get involved in this, so he kept quiet.

"But you can see, Barry. There's not one creature in this mansion that doesn't enjoy a bit of sadism. I suppose we all have the infamous _Marquis _running through our veins…maybe just a pinch."

Barry went back to silence, but his look was reaction enough.

"Oh, surely you do, Barry. Of course you do. Look at me now, wouldn't you find pleasure in breaking every bone in my body before I die? Or driving hot, rusted knives beneath my finger nails? You think that's rough, wait and see what happens to Joseph. The Lisa Project is sure to not disappoint."

000

Chris closed the groaning door behind him. He had left Rebecca in the room which he now was quite a ways away from. She was exhausted and desperately needed sleep. So he had laid her down on the bed and left her with a note explaining where he was, and to top it all off he locked the door with the key she had given him to ensure her safety. He had to keep the mission alive, find the others, and discover the secret behind these supposed monsters. Rebecca was half crazed and delusional because of her lack of sleep, her mind could very well have over exaggerated what was seen. He sighed, clutching the last defense he had, a wimpy bowie knife. He felt helpless with it, but if that failed then he still had his muscle, and he _knew _that was trustworthy.

He had made his way across the mansion, into it's main hall, and had found nothing more then blood. Blood was everywhere, dried, fresh, sticky. And the smell. The smell was horrendous. Chris constantly gagged from the lukewarm, musty smell of thick filth. But he knew what it was, he'd smelt it through years of combat, it was the smell of death. And the rotten stench that now plagued his every breath was far worse then anything he had ever encountered before. But other then that and a few drastic blasts of lightning, he had not come in contact with anything of potential horror or danger. So what had scared Rebecca so badly? Monsters? He didn't know and right now, being all alone, he didn't find it necessary to know.

Chris now stood on the upper balcony in the main hall, coughing because of the growing dust in his lungs. Nearly every door he had checked was locked, and he frankly was getting sick of it. When he tried the very last door in the far northeastern corner, it was also locked with the emblem of a sword on the keyhole. Well screw that, he wanted some goddamn answers. Chris launched a heavy kick just to the side of the doorknob. The echoing noise rattled with the thunder in the large hall, and Chris tried again. The second blow knocked the door open, swinging it loose from two of its hinges. He knew he could trust his muscle.

Inside it was warm, and for that Chris was at first thankful. But it was the wrong kind of warm…the kind of warmth that is felt when one's heart races. It was a hall that turned immediately right from the door, its true features relinquished by shadow. Dark oak wanes lined the walls, and above them was a crimson wall paper with a floral like design that puffed up in large billows along the wall. The paper was, cracked and torn by what seemed ages of decay. A single lamp stood upon a dark oak table upon the right side of the hall, and upon the left side another table was lined with a white table linen and broken pieces of china.

His foot steps were a muted thud as they sunk into the dust-covered carpet. He moved through the dim glow of the lamps, breathing the hot air and dust. He saw a door to his right, but chose not to come near it. It was nailed shut by crudely placed two by fours, and a bloody hand print lay smeared upon the fresh wood. Chris found himself straying to the opposite side of the door, as far away from it as he could. Something was definitely amiss in this giant place, something other then killers. Had Rebecca been right? Was there some kind of monster lurking around here? No, Chris had to think clearly. Monsters exist only in hallucinations and exaggerated processing of the brain. And Chris had to keep his imagination in check.

The hallway ahead banked sharply left, and Chris pressed his back against the wall. He peered around the corner, and could see nothing but more paintings, tacky furniture, and a broken mirror. So he turned the corner and proceeded with unease, his knife held firmly in his grip. Another bend in the hallway, and still nothing. Nothing but the tattered remains of what was a horrible struggle. There were two doors upon the right side of the long wall. Chris went for the first, but saw it had no door handle, and he was beginning to wonder if the noise of smashing doors open was such a good idea. Someone may have already heard the first. The thought nearly froze him in solid fear, and Chris chose to brush it away. He was cool, contained, and had to maintain the utmost composure.

The next door had a small brass handle, and Chris listened for a moment before opening it. No one was inside, nothing but another dimly lit room. Jesus, Chris was beginning to suspect Mr. Spencer was a vampire, what with all this goddamn darkness. No no, Chris silenced his pathetic imagination. The room was a cluttered mess. Several tall book shelves stood propped up against the walls, at least a hundred paintings hung from the walls of the room. Two desks, both holding lamps which seemed to be the only light source for the room itself, stood in opposite corners of the room. Both were covered in books, folders, images, and papers. Papers were everywhere, upon the floor, tacked onto the wall, the desks, the shelves. This place had been ransacked, almost as though someone was looking for something in a hurry. Well, it didn't seem to be much, but maybe he could find something that could tell him what the hell happened here.

The first jumble of papers he stumbled upon seemed to be observation notes for an experiment of some kind. Some science project, in a mansion? It didn't make sense, but Chris browsed through them:

_The discovery of the T-Virus was in fact 21 years after the administration of the progenitor virus. _

_The "Prototype Parasite" which we had delivered from a laboratory in France was administered to the sample specimen. The sample specimen took in the parasite without showing any signs of adverse reaction. _

_The lack of any reaction was an unsolved mystery. But now everything is clear to me. _

_The "Prototype Parasite" was incubating in the sample specimen's body for 21 years. Then from that incubating state the prototype suddenly mutated. ("Evolved" may be a more appropriate word to describe it.) _

_This observation gave me more insight in my research. Through further modification and testing, I was able to derive a method to create the T-virus that surpasses the performance of its previous formula. _

_This was the breakthrough that would change the future of the B.O.W.'s history. _

_I can't wait to see the look on Alexia's annoying face when I finally announce my research. But unfortunately I'll have to wait a few more years to completely verify my findings. _

_William Birkin_

The T-Virus? B.O.W.'s and a "Prototype Parasite"? What the _hell _happened here? Chris quickly scrambled around the desk for another set of notes. The next was another journal, stained with dark blots of a dried liquid, the pages yellowed and partially torn.

There is now evidence that when the host loses consciousness, the body goes into a dormant state. During this time the virus becomes active and rapidly transforms and reconstructs the basic composition of the body.

The host eventually mutates into a humanoid creature. (We call them V- ACTs). Its speed and amazing muscular development are particularly noteworthy. After transformation, it becomes more agile and aggressive.

Already four of our researchers have died from trying to feed it, turning the place into an instant blood bath. (Ever since this tragic and barbaric accident, we have decided to call its kind "Crimson Heads")

That dangerous and precious prototype specimen can't be left there. We have to figure out a way to deal with it. Termination is definitely not an option. A proper confinement must be found.

Chris dropped the journal on the desk, a hot feeling of awareness burning at his face and chest. He could only think of one thing as he searched for more evidence: Monsters. Chris scrambled through the papers. Notes, reports of experimentations, random letters and numbers scribbled together to stand for something but what? It was research but for what purpose? Who was funding this? He stumbled over the papers to get around the desk towards the drawers when he tripped over something. He turned to see a small cardboard box, its contents spilled on the floor. Tapes, cassettes, a VHS tape, and torn pieces of aged paper. Chris plucked it up and read:

_T-virus Summary:_

_After nearly fifteen years of research, the T-virus is near to perfection. Imagine, a drug that enhances the living body for extreme strength, learning, speed, senses, and tolerance for pain without any long term side effects done. A perfect formula for the perfect soldier, just a little shy of its perfect form. Even the weakest of animals would be turned into a killing machine, yet they could remain calm and capable of living an ordinary life. However the virus is not yet perfected. The right dosage of chemicals used to make the virus has not yet been discovered, thus, improper amounts of certain chemicals have induced horrible side effects. Many cases show that the virus will at first kill the subject in the most horrid of ways. The subject's flesh and body is deliberately put into the process of decomposition while the subject is still alive. Eventually, the subject will die, killing off all the body cells._

_The virus will then take effect, reanimating the body cells to try and enhance the body and mind of the subject. However because of the decomposition the subject will only be enhanced to a much more simpler, barbaric state then any perfect soldier. In a sense the subject will be brought back to life, but only with the intention to feed upon anything that is truly living. To but it blatantly, the subject becomes a "zombie". Nevertheless, muscle capacity and aggression are greatly enhanced, therefore it is a step forward._

_It is shown that the virus actually dehydrates the body, which may be part of the problem as to why it decomposes. Therefore, if water were to be added to make a solution of both the virus and H20, then perhaps we might find success. However experimentation cannot begin until the remaining scientists have been returned, and those that were executed have been replaced._

_Infection Distribution_

_The virus can be dispersed in a number of ways, with a number of results. As example with the "Tyrant", "Lisa Trevor", and "B.O.W.'s" projects, if two full doses of the virus is injected directly into living tissue, the subject will become powerful in all ways except the mind. The subject will be fast, strong, agile, tolerant to pain, and an exquisite hunter. However their mind is greatly effected, and depleted down to nothing but an apparent rage that torments them every moment until death. This is similar only with lessened results if one full dose is injected._

_If the virus is air born when it finds a host, then the description above shall take place. The subject will only become a basic living thing bent on nothing but the urge to feed._

_The virus may also spread by infection from one host coming in contact with another. If there is any penetration of the flesh, then it is hypothesized that the victim will suffer the same results only to a much smaller degree._

_Virus Cure _

_There is indeed a way to cure the potency, in a sense it is a process that rewinds and erases all the virus will do to a subject's cells. It is a formula, called V-Serum, that is the result of multiple tests and research as well as use of many chemicals. The process cannot be written as it would bring danger to this company, however what can be said is that the V-Serum and the T-virus are held in the laboratories in the basement of the estate. They cannot be removed under any circumstances._

Chris tightened his fist about the papers and let them drop to the floor. He became distant with all of this, with the mansion, the nightmarish notes, Rebecca, his team, everything. It were as though he was watching himself in a dream, looking at it all become slowly worse and he could do nothing about it. Thousands of theories raced through his mind. What if the scientists kidnapped the victims and injected them with that virus? No no, they were eaten to death, they didn't rot. Although, now that he thought of it there was some immature rotting on the corpses around the bite marks. Could it have been that some of the "subjects" escaped and were ravaging the countryside? Maybe those dogs outside were also infected somehow.

But that wasn't important. Some science program was running tests like this, illegal tests. It was biological warfare, Chris knew it from his experience in the military. Because of his rank, he had often overheard discussions of the biological enhancement given to soldiers to make them elite. A drug that would have no long term effects, it would be almost natural, and it would be flushed out with your body's waste systems. No side effects. Yea, except for the whole dying and becoming a zombie part. There were more papers, and Chris was drawn to read forth. However a coughing croak just beyond the door inspired him to freeze and stare at the second door, opposite the one he had come in through. He took a step back, rustling through the papers as he listened to slow, monotonous footsteps. As he listened he heard something strange, the steps seemed to be…soggy, as they squished down whatever hall lay upon the other side of the door.

Chris stealthily slunk towards the door, pressing his ear against it to listen. The squelching footsteps were fading, wandering away. And then, they stopped. Chris listened, listened hard. But he could only hear coarse breaths, as though someone was wounded. Chris thought of the notes and papers, turning back to stuff what he could fit into his pockets for future investigations. However, little did he know he had failed to grab the papers holding information about the virus experimentation. Quietly he went back to the door. He'd just poke his head out without making a sound, see what it was, and make a move from that point. Sophomoric? Yes, but what choice did he have with nothing but a bowie knife to defend himself. His fingers gripped the doorknob, and quietly twisted it. He felt the soft jolt as the door was opened, as though it had not been opened in a long time, and he creaked it open.

Chris peered out into a dark hallway that ran off in front of him then curved right at the end. There was a staircase leading down to his immediate left, and what looked to be a small ledge looking down upon the first floor. Along the walls beside the stairs were hundreds of pictures, some even in old black and white, all clustered together upon the tacky yellow wallpaper. Further down the hallway before him, windows lay open wide, allowing the silvery blue moonlight to flutter into the room alongside the gentle floating drapes. There was no light save for a chandelier above the staircase, which illuminated very little from its point.

That is when he heard it. A soft, moist cough. Like a short, gurgling choke that lurches forth when someone chokes upon food. It was to his right, just behind the door which stood open, blocking whatever it was. The choke grunted deeply, then transformed into a panting breath. It was like a horse's lungs, deep and fast; and sniffing. Chris ran cold and hot, his body freezing up as his muscles burned with adrenaline. His fingers, soaked in his own sweat, grasped the knife as he listened beyond the other side of the door; listening to the breathing.

Suddenly the panting became faster, deeper as it coarsely heaved behind the door. Faster and faster, but nothing else stirred. Nothing else in the entire hall moved, only the incessant breathing that grew and grew. Chris edged in his boots, frozen with fear. Horrified, he heard the floorboards beneath him creak. And the panting stopped. The breath was held and nothing, no sound could be heard.

Chris didn't move, he refused to breathe. His heart drilled inside of him, shooting blood in spasms throughout his veins. It was so quiet he could feel his temples pulsating in his eardrums. There was nothing left to do. His slippery hands squeezed upon the doorknob, and pulled it back away from blocking the hall upon the other side. He closed the door behind him and gaped in horror at the complete blackness that chilled him. He could see nothing. But he could smell it. He knew it could only be one word. Rot, and it was sweltering in his mouth and nostrils. He watched himself, as though he had no control over it. His mind frozen, his body simply acted to the darkness. Reaching into his back pants pocket, he pulled out the small golden Zippo lighter.

His subtly quivering arm rose with lighter in hand, and with a clink he opened the top hatch. He felt the coarse ridges of the flint beneath his sweating thumb. For a moment he hesitated, and then he pulled the flint down. Sparks, and fire. Oh Jesus.

Glinting white eyes flared, gnarling yellow teeth, and the foul hot breath gnashed at him in the dim glow. Cold, mushy wet hands gripped him and drove him back. The lighter went out in his hand and they fell into darkness. Chris felt slime and filth smear upon his face and vest, and he violently wrenched his body around. The assailant was twisted into the air from Chris' heavy drive, and Chris grabbed his face and drove him skull first into the hard wood floor. His knee followed through, crushing the rib cage; and he drove the knife deep into the attacker's throat. Standing, he stumbled back with a quaky unease as he listened to the attacker gurgling and wheezing for life as it drowned in its own blood. He had not felt that shiver since his first fight, the feeling of an adrenaline high. His nerves were racked as he stumbled around for something to light his way again. His fingers slid over a light switch, and he desperately flicked it on.

There his eyes fell upon it. Only it wasn't a man. It wasn't even human. The bleak, dull eyes rolled back into the misshaped skull. It's jaw, twisted and snapped away from its mouth lay partially open, still moving and cracking as it tried to breathe. It's neck was bloated, it's face covered in pink blisters. The skin itself was rotted and a dull grayish blue, bubbled with pus and rotted meat. The scalp was torn open, and a red-stained skull glimmered beneath the matted hair. He wore a lab coat, beneath a tie and suit. All were torn to shatters, smeared with grime and blood. His shirt itself was ripped open, exposing his rib cage with was partially enveloped by the swollen, veined organs that pumped and squirted with sickening squishing noises beneath.

And then Chris noticed something. Noticed something that horrified him. A name tag, _John Toleman, bioengineer research assistant_. This thing is a person, or _was_. The stench finally broke him. It plagued his nostrils and throat, lurching a lump up in him as he realized what it was. Chris turned away and puked upon the floor, gagging at the awful rotting corpse. It was a zombie. A goddamn zombie. He remembered the notes he had found:

_…because of the decomposition the subject will only be enhanced to a much more simpler form…with the intention to feed upon anything that is truly living. _

This man had been infected whatever that virus was. He had died, that much was obvious. But, despite the signs of rot, it also looked as though he had been literally torn in pieces. Like he had been mauled. Chris shivered, but he continued to try and think it all through. There would have had to of been more of them, maybe they attacked him. To go after every living thing…that's why it attacked him like that. It wanted to eat him. If there was something that could chill Chris before, the thought of something trying to eat him certainly replaced it. That is just screwed to shit. But, why would they infect a researcher with the virus? No, not unless he did it himself because he had run out of test subjects. And maybe it got out of hand and the virus spread through him.

Chris stood, wiping his lips with his arm. Whatever it was, he had to get away from that horrible smell, and back to Rebecca. He rose and glanced at the creature before he turned towards the door he had come through, staring at the hideous corpse that lay in contortion upon the stained carpet. Chris stopped, he had noticed something that kind of burned at his temples. The fingers, the skinned fingers of the corpse were twitching. Well no, not twitching, they were moving; each finger gently curled and opened again. Chris scooped the knife on the floor and stepped back, stumbling into the railing that hung over the first floor below. He watched the fingers finally curl into a fist that began to quiver in tension, the ravaged head began to spasm, the jaw began to twist and click as the teeth chattered together.

"Jesus," Chris wanted to move but for some reason he couldn't. He was curious, and besides if he'd taken it down before what's to say he couldn't now?

Suddenly its chest lurched up, the ribs poking through the flesh and the spine cracking. The entire body began to squirm, spasms wriggling the wet muscles and spurting blood from the gaping wounds. Then it began to moan, an unearthly snarling grunt that was deep and barreled from the vocal cords. Its arms rose and began flailing around as if trying to grab something, the fingernails scraping along the walls. The head was whipping around now, its hair flailing in a wet blur. Okay, maybe it was time he left.

Chris wanted to get through the door he came in from, but between him and its handle lay the corpse and it's violent tremors. Chris turned and quickly stumbled down the stairs. He hopped down onto the second floor just as he heard a sudden roar, something straight from his nightmares. Chris scrambled down a short corridor and slammed his shoulder into a door as he heard the monster behind him scramble about. He turned the handle and went frozen with fear as it fell apart in his grip.

"_Shit shit shit!" _he panicked under his breath. Chris began beating into the door, but it was a heavy, solid oak. The monster clambered down upon the stairs behind him, snarling and screaming. It wasn't what it was, it was worst it was so much worse. He stepped back and beat his thick boot into the socket for the door knob, again and again. It started to come loose. The monster drew closer as it stumbled to regain full strength-

Chris spat curses at the goddamn door as he slammed his boot again and again, each time breaking it a little further.

The monster was at the bottom of the stairs-

Chris turned over his shoulder to see it crawling frantically toward him, watching it twinge as it came hungrily.

The door rattled loosely now. Chris stepped back, and threw his entire body weight against it. Nothing, it held. He did it again, nothing. Chris stepped back farther, and just felt the grasp of cold fingers at his leg before he launched forward into the door. It was slammed open and Chris fell upon the hard wood floor on the other side. He scrambled to his feet, turning left back towards the drug room where Rebecca was. Rebecca, he had to get to that room, it had a lock. He bashed into double doors and slammed them shut behind him. A lock, thank god! Chris fumbled for the latch and clicked it to the left, safe.

He slumped with his back against the doors, letting his breath catch up to him. Looking about him, another tight hallway that was riddled with light from outside. A sudden flash illuminated the room, and thunder crashed outside. Then he heard it behind him. Thump thump thump thump, the sound of bare feet pumping across the floor as they grew near. He turned away from the door just in time to see it rattle and be slammed into from the opposing side, the monster was up and _running_. Another slam and the locked door was nearly broken open. Screw this. Chris took off around a corner, past a line of windows and several more locked doors when he heard the monster come crashing in. The drumming thumps rolled down the hall after him, the raspy grunting breaths growing louder.

Chris turned just in time to see it round the corner behind him. Brilliant white eyes, a purple face flushed with blood, rippling muscles that tore through the rotted skin. Before he could move any faster, it was upon him, and a powerful slash ripped down his back followed by a thrusting shove into the far wall. His neck cracked as his skull was beat again and again into a wall, the monster's fist clenched like a snake about his hair. Chris barely managed to turn and thrust the knife into the monster's skull. It stumbled back and he saw it's long fingernails thrashing about, dripping with blood from Chris' scalp. The monster finally gripped the knife and wrenched it free, blood spewing from his skull as he stared vengefully at Chris. He's alive? Why the hell is he alive?

No more, Chris bolted swift as he could before the monster could follow. Around the corner, he slammed into the door at the end of the hall. He opened it and slammed it shut, saw the lock, and bolted it. He turned around in the black shadows and spotted a heavy dresser. Quickly he got behind it and shoved it into the door just in time to feel the monster bang into it upon the other side. The monster beat and scratched against the door, but finally he couldn't get through. Chris sighed and turned away from the door, relieved to hear the frustration of that son of a bitch. Before him was a long hall, completely black save for the dim light that crept in through the windows, the thick particles of dust floating about in it's silvery aura.

Upon the wall opposite the windows danced the shadows of the brush and leaves. Few tables and large shelves littered the walls, and at the end the hall turned right. Weaponless, Chris moved swiftly but with caution. His head throbbed, and he could feel it beginning to swell. Rebecca could patch it up, but he'd have to actually get to her first. Then he realized…the monster had scratched him. Oh jesus, was he infected by that T-virus thing? No matter what he had to get back to Rebecca. Just move, and move quickly. Softly, hardly making a sound, he trudged his way down the hall. He came to the turn, and silently peered around the corner. Nothing but the dim glow of the windows. He continued to move when he heard a tap. A gentle tap, and it could barely have been heard. But to Chris, it was like a bomb had just gone off. He froze, it had come from behind him. Another small tap, louder this time. He turned, to see nothing. But around the corner…

Chris jumped back and looked down the long hall but could see nothing. Nothing was there.

"House is too damn old," he muttered under his breath. He felt odd as he said it, as though he was trying to comfort himself.

Then he heard it again, only louder. It was a rattled thud. The windows, it had to have come from the windows. It was the sound of glass being jostled against glass. Then he saw it. The soft, black silhouette of a man against the wall, encased in the light from the window. His arms were raised, and he was dully thumping against the glass as though trying to get through. Then Chris could hear it, his soft moan that was muffled because of the glass. Another tap, and Chris turned to see more of those horrible things staring at him through the windows from outside. Their thumping became louder all as one, heavier and their wanting groans for flesh built higher.

Suddenly they were at every window, groups of them. Chris could only guess a dozen, he didn't know how many. They were all outside, peering in. And in the distance, at the far end of the hall, he could hear the scraping and screaming of the monster that had chased him down. The chanting noise growing louder and louder, a chorus of horror as they began to beat against the windows faster and harder. The berserker at the far door ranting in a bloodlust as it buried it's claws through the wood of the thick oak. They were coming in, getting in and he could do nothing. He could run to the other door but, what if they broke through as he ran past? They'd overpower him. Louder and louder they grew, their moans and beatings against the glass drumming in his ears as his heart beat.

The glass shattered. Chris had no other choice, and he ran forth into the wet, griping hands. Immediately he felt all hope become submerged in the sea of groans and arms that reached for him. One by one they seized him, their gaping mouths coming closer. He felt them grip his throat, his shirt, legs, and arms.

Ahead he could see it now, the door at the other end. It was there! Making a final leap he heaved his body towards it-

and felt the cold fingers' grip harden upon him, and he was dragged back into the lurching hoards of zombies.


	8. Ch 8: The Dungeons

Chapter Eight

Jill and Leon had followed what remained of Joseph's trail, from underneath the stairs in the main hall they had found doors that led down into the basement of the mansion. Little did they know just how deep the basement was. They had proceeded with caution down the dark cement steps, the moisture glistened in the glare of the few lights that guided their passage. They had encountered nothing, and even the hot stench of death was beginning to lift from their nostrils, giving them a slight ease. At first the walls were smooth, painted over in white and lined with fluorescent bars that hung from the ceiling. And then the walls became more rough, more unfinished. No longer where they painted white, but left with the natural brownish gray color of stone. Darker and darker the atmosphere about them became, and the smell of wet soil mustered with the decay of life.

The winding stairs at last reached the bottom floor, only it was an unfinished floor made of dirt. The walls were no longer stone, but large and uneven boards crudely put up and held by thicker planks of wood to keep the entire basement from caving in. It was an unfinished workplace, which made Jill all the more worried. The only light source came from randomly hung lanterns or melting candles stacked upon wooden crates and boards. Immediately Joseph's trail was lost amidst the dirt and many footprints.

"Jill," Leon motioned as he squatted down to examine the footprints, "Could you please get one of those lanterns?"

Geez, even in the field this boy was polite. Jill didn't know what to think of him, well mannered rookie or a pretty momma's boy. Yet she snatched off the nearest gas lantern, pulling it away from the clinging cobwebs that stuck to the wall. She sat it on the floor as she knelt beside him.

"Look," he said, "These footprints look the most recent, and they aresomewhat cut into by these dragging lines. Think maybe this is Joseph's attacker dragging him down here?"

"It would have to be," she said thoughtfully, "And look at how they're barefoot."

"Yea…so?"

Well despite his manners, Leon was still the typical notice-nothing-important male.

"I mean look, who would walk down here barefoot? And then, look at how thin and small they are, these feet are smaller then _mine_," she said.

Leon caught on, "Which means it's someone either young or a female. But someone young could not have done this. I mean, Joseph is big."

"Right, and a female this size would have difficulty. The drops of blood suggest that she carried him at least part of the way down. That doesn't make sense…"

"I'm beginning to wonder if anything in this place makes sense," murmured Leon as he looked around the dark hall.

Jill followed his gaze, noticing the shaft leading off in a straight line but with many corridors and other caverns branching off. It was dark, too dark. Jill wondered how any man could live in a place so black. The structure of this unfinished place reminded her of mining tunnels. Only, judging from the massive amounts of cobwebs that had gathered on the ceiling and walls, she judged it had been abandoned for some time. She stood and nodded towards the first of the caverns that broke away, "Let's go this way."

She watched Leon stand, noticing him grimace as he touched his shoulder.

"Is it still stinging?"

"Yea, just a little bit though. Only a bit of swelling."  
"Come on, let's find a place that isn't so open so that I can have a better look at that."

She began to walk off, and noticed Leon stumbled against the wall to follow her.

"No Jill," Leon murmured, "We've got to find Joseph first. This can wait."

"Leon don't give me that, you need medical attention. And-"

Jill felt the solid snap of wood give way beneath her feet and she fell into the clutches of thick webbing. For a moment she felt nothing but a whoosh of air, her stomach lurched, her eyes clamped shut, and she slammed into stone and mud. The wind was smacked out of her as her head thumped into the ground.

"Jill!" Leon cried down after her. His horror-stricken voice was distant, elusive, as though it was somewhere else entirely.

Seconds passed, seeming like hours to her as she struggled for air, her vision coming back into focus.

"Jill!"

"I'm here," she managed, "I'm all right, I think."

She grabbed for the boards nailed along the wall, pulling herself up slowly on her wobbling legs. Her head spun, she'd hit it pretty hard; her eyes fluttered as she looked around. It was complete darkness, no light except the candles' glow from where she'd fallen from. She felt about her body, moving her limbs and turning to check for broken bones or anything that would be bruised.

"Are you hurt at all?" Leon's voice echoed down.

"No. I'll be fine."

"Good! Wait there I'm coming down after you."

"Leon no!"

He stopped his attempt to jump and looked down in question.

"Stay up there!" she called up, "This is at least fifteen feet or so, in your state we can't risk you getting hurt even more. Just keep going, I'll find my way down here."

There was a moment of silence, and Jill could tell Leon didn't want to listen to her. Yet technically, she was his superior, and she knew he would despise going against orders.

"All right," he finally agreed, "Do you have the gun?"

Jill looked around and saw the chrome of the desert eagle glimmering in the candle light.

"Yes!" she replied scooping it up.

"Good, now wait there I'll come down to you. Don't move unless you have to!"

A man, a man below Jill's rank giving her an order? She wanted to chew him out right there, but he was already gone. Dammit, stuck there in the dark with nothing but bruised ribs and a magnum. Well it could've been worse. Jill leaned against the wall and slumped down impatiently. That boy had better hurry his ass up, she didn't like being kept waiting. Especially when she had been _told _to do so. A thick muffled noise stopped her thoughts.

Jill turned to look to her left in the darkness, straining her eyes to see. A clunk, like that of something mechanical falling into place. Jill stood again, squeezing the gun in her fingers as she stared after the noise. Another clunking sound, followed abruptly by two more. A fifth, this one the loudest, and then something else started up. It was like a symphony of mechanics that made her insides quiver as the noise grew. A rumbling groan intertwined with the grinding of stone against stone. A gentle, hot gust of wind blew the dangling cobwebs into her face as the clamor continued to grow.

Jill decided that waiting was no longer an option, and ran off in the other direction. Whatever it was, it grew louder and louder as she ran into the shadows and must. For only a second she was in complete black, she could see nothing as she pumped her legs, hunched over with her arm tucked tightly around her aching ribs. Then she saw light, candles upon chains and metal bars that hung above her, looking down at her as though taunting her. The rumbling grew louder and louder, closer and closer as it drove behind her. Then, crashing into the light it came, a massive sphere of stone, perfectly rounded as it came groaning in. The scream of stone scraping against stone trembled through her ear drums as Jill panted desperately away.

Away from the candles, back into darkness she came as she sprinted down the hall. Suddenly she slammed into the dead end of the tunnel, trapped. Jill turned, staring at the growling black shadow that loomed over her. Thrashing closer and closer, any moment it would roll atop her and she would be finished. Crushed. Bones splintered, organs popped. Then out of the corner of her eye, a candle flickered from the foul wind that rustled it. She turned. A thin crevice hid by shadows and cobwebs in the corner. In one leap she hurled through the cobwebs, collapsing into thick dirt and safety. The thrashing massive orb collided with the wall and shuddered every bit of the underground structure. Jill stared at the boulder as though it were alive, before collapsing on her back in disbelief. It was official, she hated this mansion.

000

"NO!"

The man's cry was fiery as he thrust his fist into the monitor screen that held the exhausted figure of Jill Valentine. Again, the cursed mansion had failed him! This was ludicrous! A home, a castle, built to destroy any traitors or intruders, couldn't live up to its reputation. How insulting! And there, sat the gleeful fat man. Barry…yes well…he would pay. No more asking him who dies next. No no, Barry _knew _already that this mansion was faulty. Yes, he could see it now, the man could see that Barry had this place figured all along. He had to. Something must have passed to him, some traitor, some trip in the streamline, _something_!

"Oh, you find this humorous," said the man infuriated at the weakly smiling Barry, "You consider me _funny?_"

"No, you're disgusting," Barry shot back.

The man's tough, bony fingers were at his throat in a second, squeezing so tight, he could feel him swallow his last breath of air.

"In that case, this is where you will find me simply repulsive," snarled the man, "Yes…I've had enough of you and your disgusting existence. You, and all humans. I detest you, you and your fear of what you can't explain. I am in agony at your weakness. Your minds, your brains are wasted and utterly unappreciated in their magnificence. You've no idea the power a human brain can possess, even one as feeble as yours Barry. Now, watch as I do something that will not fail!"

He turned and flipped several switches before pressing one button. A soothing, female voice came over the small intercom and said, _"Tyrant Project revival in process, Tyrant Project revival in process."_

"There now. Soon our good friends will be enjoying an entirely new host to this mansion besides the simple minded dogs and zombies. Another test for your companions' skills."

"You bastard!" Barry choked, as the man finally released his throat, "How can you do this? How can you do something so sick!"

"Oh tsk tsk tsk…now now you haven't even seen the real sick part yet, have you?"

The man leaned right down beside Barry's ear, his voice quieted to a whisper, "You don't even know what sick is yet, boy. I can show you a kind of sick you can't possibly comprehend, nor see, nor even fathom. I can show you a sick that you can only feel as it rots away your innards."  
"Why?" was all Barry could mumble.

"Because I am exhausted by mankind's insolence. I am horrified at your existence and frankly I, along with a certain organization, have decided to do something about it. That is what you and your companions are here for. I am the scientist and you are the lab rats, and this is my experiment."

"What for…"

"_That _is something that I cannot display for you at this time. Now," said the man, "I have an errand to run. Seeing that Chris is out of the way I can now do what I wish with the girl, Rebecca. So if you'll excuse me, time for the extraction of yet another failed lab rat."

000

Joseph could barely open his burning eyes as he emerged from his unconsciousness, shaking off the last bits of a weary fatigue. His vision was a smeared mess of ambiguity, and his skull rang and felt like a dead weight. As his consciousness grew he became aware of the searing pain that tormented his shoulder. He could barely wince as he turned, feeling the massive, rusted hook protruding from just beneath his collar bone. He dared not move, for each time he could feel the serrated edge of the hook scraping deeper against bone and muscle. He could barely even breathe, his rib cage felt constricted. It was cold; and a horrible, acrid smell flooded his cramped lungs and nostrils. His throat felt soar and dry, and as his vision became clear he felt a harrowing sense of nausea. Where the hell was he…

He sat upon the floor in the corner of a decent-sized room that was dimly lit by several gas lanterns. A thick, beaten down table stood in the center of the room, stained with blackened splatter smears and grime. Joseph tried to move, but a new pain set him back once more. Ropes tightly bound his hands and feet, and the rope cut through his skin to his wrist bones. He could feel the cords digging into him, and he winced at the sting. Looking past his hands and legs, he saw the floor was nothing but dirt and straw, a dry and cold atmosphere. Slowly, as his swelling eyes adjusted to the light, he began to see the details as they become horrifically clear.

Draped in lines along walls, slowly swaying back and forth, cast upon the floor beside him in thick stained bags, segmented and placed in jars that lined the shelves and furniture. Bodies were everywhere. Mangled, ridiculed, savagely eviscerated bodies of what were once men and women. Joseph could barely count at least two dozen that were not completely torn apart. They lay, massive incision lines cut into their chests and stomachs, skulls and limbs. Organs, muscles, and bones lay scattered about, some in jars some dried up and welting in the lantern's glow. Teeth…human teeth were in piles divided by shape and size upon the table. Scalps and tuffs of hair were divided by color and tied together, some in braids, some simply held by black string.

"Where the fuck…" he squeaked in shock, only it sounded like a frightened little boy trying to swear.

Then he remembered. He remembered the long, agonizing trip that went down down down into the mansion's belly. The pain blinded him, he screamed so hard he could taste blood in his throat, he scraped at the ground until his finger nails were bleeding, two had been stepped on and completely cracked and broken off. And his shoulder, jesus he didn't even want to look at it. But he had to get it out, the rust would infect him.

"God fucking dammit…" he whimpered as he looked away, feeling for the hook with his fingers.

He let them ensnare the handle, and quietly he prepared himself, "One…two…three!"

He screamed and cursed, ripping the hook free of his flesh and bone. Broken and fatigued, he let it drop to the floor. There was no comfort here, no comfort anywhere. And what peace he had was diminished by the realization that his nightmare was real. In all his years as a mercenary, a soldier, a cop, and a S.T.A.R.S. member, he could never imagine being in such an inhumane place.

Suddenly he heard her coming, heard the ruler of the nightmare coming. His heart began to pulsate, he could feel it beating in his mouth. He could hear the demon moaning, wailing incomprehensively as its thumping, uneven steps straggled closer. Closer, closer she came until he could hear her raspy, inhuman breaths. Frantically Joseph traced over the room with his eyes, a weapon, another door, something that would help him. Nothing, the only door was the entrance, covered by a sickly yellow sheet, stained in brown and red. Suddenly he saw her looming shadow slither across the sheet, and he knew there was no possible means of awaking from this nightmare.

She tore aside the cloth door and stomped in; a massive, limp body dangled over her shoulder. She gimped towards the table, almost like a primate, and dropped the corpse upon the table. It was Enrico Marini, and he was still breathing. He bled heavily from his scalp, and in the monster's hand was chunks of his hair. She'd dragged him down here by his hair.

"Enrico," Joseph whispered.

She turned her hideous, bloated, putrid face towards him and grunted, angered by him speaking. Her long, wet, black hair dangled before her black eye sockets, she had no eyes. No, she was wearing some kind of mask rotten mask. She snorted and growled at him.

"You bitch…" he muttered.

She scowled and roared, stepping closer to Joseph.

"You think you scare me? You fucking _hag_! Let Enrico go, or my friend's gonna come and pump your crusty asshole full of lead!-"

"Joseph…" came a wheezing voice, it was Enrico, "Shut up…"

"Enrico! Don't worry, Leon's coming and-"

"Shut _up_…Joseph. Just let her do…what she wants to do with me…and spare yourself some time…" he could barely groan as he gasped his last breaths out.

The bitch seemed to understand this, and taking her long, wiry hands she turned back towards her main prey. What was she going to do? Eat him? What…no. Joseph couldn't let that happen, but he couldn't move as she began to finger around with an array of rusted tools. Joseph watched in horror as she selected a serrated knife, rusted and black, it was long and jagged. Above Enrico, she slowly rose it with both hands.

"No…" Joseph whispered.

Suddenly she shrieked, a horrible cry of agonized rage, and drove the knife into Enrico's sternum.

"ENRICO!" Joseph screamed in unison with the monster's cry.

Enrico lurched to sit up in reaction, but she shoved him back down and wrenched the blade up between his ribs all the way to his throat, splitting his chest completely open. Enrico cried and wailed in pain as she took scissors to his stomach. Joseph could only scream and turn away, listening to the gradual _snip snip_. He turned back once more, to look at his dying friend, to see her rip open his skin. There she cocked her head and watched the pumping organs. She was examining him…she was _curious_…

000

Leon had not traveled far into the expansive basement since his separation from Jill. He had come across a broken set of stairs which he barely was able to stumble down because of their rickety condition. As he had continued, he noticed his shoulder was beginning to throb less and less. Slowly it became almost nothing, and in fact it felt stronger. He felt…almost rejuvenated at its sudden depletion of pain. The swelling had gone, and it had began to scab over and properly heal at last.

Leon now stood at the beginning of a long hall that he had entered from a rattled, worn in door. Ahead of him, thick massing bunches of cobwebs stuck to the walls and glistened in the light of a faint gas lantern he had managed to pick up. It was the only light in the dark shaft before him, and the sickly white and yellow glow of the webbing reflected its shine. Massive globs nearly the size of Leon were plastered to the wall. His boots slipped and crunched with many a varied noises through the grasping dirt, rocks, and cobwebs upon the floor. Leon approached one of the globs at his right, the massive spherical shape looming over him in the wavering light. Leon looked closer, and quivered slightly as he saw the entire blob was _moving_. Something inside, something alive, was ever so gently bulging and prodding around. He head a soft squeak, but wasted no time moving on and getting away from the awful globs of webbing and muck.

Leon did not get much farther down the dark, lonesome hallway before he began to see something much worse then the repulsive blobs of webbing. He knew what it was, he just couldn't believe it. Right out of a horror movie. Bodies. Bodies hanging from the ceiling, bound upside down by ropes and chains. The corpses' expressions all in agony, what remained of their bodies was completely mangled. Yet Leon could not think beyond that as he stared at dozens of hanging, slowly swinging bodies. He could see them through the ropes and cobwebs that had grown to cling to them, some were nothing but rotted skull and dried flesh, the liquid from their organs staining the webs and ropes in a brownish black tint. Others had just died, the look of fixed horror upon their faces, their eyes rolled back in their skulls. The innards and fluids all liquefied and drained from their bones, left with nothing but dried, grotesque figures that hung in contorted positions.

Leon stopped and stared at the hanging bodies. He would have to walk through them, he had no choice. Uneasily, he moved past the dangling corpses, feeling them roll off his back and chest as he moved past in disgust. He was close to the end of the clinging bodies, close to escaping their moist stench, when suddenly a hand grasped his leg and he screamed. A low, raspy moan called out in an unearthly dry grunt. Leon turned to see the same, dead white eyes he had seen before in the monster that had attacked him. The same gaping jaws, and lifeless expression stained with blood. It was upside down, hanging in the ropes. Hungrily it pulled itself closer to Leon's leg, but he tore away as it's teeth scraped against his pants. Suddenly, as though the first was only an awakening call, Leon heard the cries and moans of every body call out. And he was caught in the middle as they fumbled and snagged at him. Jesus Christ just run! Leon stumbled and took off, breaking away from the groping fingers and lifeless arms that were nothing but skin and bone. They groaned and wailed, scratching and prying at him through the teaming masses of bodies and rot.

And suddenly he broke through into the damp cold, falling away from the pleading fingers through the webs. He lay upon the ground, watching them; their horrified expressions still lingering on their faces as they begged him for pieces of his flesh. Around him, several massive blobs again hovered along the walls and ceiling. There were four. Leon heaved himself up from the dirt, wiping the stale dust from his face and eyes. He spat, his dried and sticky saliva slapping against the dust. Dust was everywhere, and he could taste; feel it clinging to the walls of his lungs inside. He tried to wipe it away with his arm, but he could feel the particles on his forearm's flesh as well.

Leon took a moment to look around, and felt his spine stiffen in a brief moment of fear. But it was a false alarm. Shadows, moving and wildly prancing shadows upon the walls, their strings of actions caused by the beat of a swaying light that hung form the ceiling. The light hummed, flickering on and off as water droplets dibbled down upon it's sizzling white. Leon immediately added the light to his list of recent things to hate. Every few seconds the hall would become pitch black, for nothing more then maybe a second or two, but every inch of time spent in darkness seemed stretched out to its maximum. That bastard light, buzzing and humming as it swayed to and fro. Swaying as though it had just recently been knocked out of hanging balance.

The thought perturbed Leon, and he hesitantly brought his gaze above him. His fingers constricted tightly upon the wet trigger and gauge of the shotgun in his white-knuckled grasp. He rose his eyes to meet the milk-white cobwebs that drooped up into the high rafters and beams of wood above, etched in darkness. He was in the center of the worst shit hole minefield. The very damn middle. And what were those white blobs? He prayed to god they weren't spiders on the verge of popping out. The hair upon the back of his neck pricked up as the thought of thousands of little beady red eyes staring at him, watching his every movement which would lead to no avail over his death. It was then he heard it. A horrible, wailing, roaring, agonizing, miserable, scream. It was an ungodly sound straight from the deepest possible circle of hell, and it was chorused by the screams of a man. The man was Enrico Marini.

"Enrico! Enrico I'm coming!" called Leon.

He followed the agony, he followed its wallowing pain down the dark, twisting halls. The hallway became a descending staircase, spiraling round and round, the walls illuminated by the gold orange of candlelight that flickered as Leon stumbled past. The staircase ended, and Leon was thrown out into another dark hall, lit solemnly by few and dim candles. There he listened. The screaming had stopped, he heard only his own heart beating up to his throat. The cold sweat trickled down Leon's neck and face, and he felt bumps rise and prick along his arms as a subtle wind blew from some source of air in the cavern.

Lining the walls of this long corridor were thick, wooden doors. The windows were barred, and they all were tightly bolted. All except one, from which a soft glow wavered out into the darkness. Leon drew cautiously near, skimming his back along the rough, stone wall. He stopped, just at the edge of the doorway, and listened. He could hear something. Crying, whimpering sounds of a broken man:

"Jesus Christ…"

"Joseph?"

The voice choked upon tears in astonishment before replying, "Leon?"

Leon immediately ran into the room, a shower of momentary relief washing over him as he saw Joseph was alive, sitting in the corner and shadows. However his contentment was far from touching him, for he saw the excruciating trauma that plagued Joseph's bleak eyes. Leon dropped the shotgun and unbound Joseph's wrists with his knife. He hoisted Joseph up and immediately Leon felt Joseph's arms embrace his friend in an ecstatic gratitude. Joseph sobbed into Leon's shoulder, "Thank you man, fucking thank you."

Leon patted Joseph's uninjured shoulder, "Hey, what'd you think I'd do? Forget about you? Come on, let's get out of here."

"Leon…"

"What?" but Leon had lost all question as he followed Joseph's gaze to a large, worn table to the side of the room.

Enrico Marini lay upon the scarlet-stained wood, his eyes still wide and his mouth partially open. His bare skull, soaked in blood from where he had been scalped. Gaps in his teeth, the gums torn and ragged where some of the teeth had been removed. He was completely disemboweled, every organ laid neatly out at his side along with bundles of his hair and his teeth. Leon immediately felt a kick in his throat, and he began to hurl. He hadn't known the man very long, but he had seemed like a nice man. He'd taken good care of everyone, even if they weren't on his team. And now he was dead, splayed before them by some sort of insanity. Leon held the puke down, and managed, "What did this?"

"Same thing that got me. She's a nightmare Leon…a fucking nightmare…" the tears were beginning to swell up in Joseph's eyes once again.

"Joseph, what is that white substance outside?"

"I don't know, I didn't see anything outside."

Leon's gaze revolved around the room, staring at each twisted corpse that dried up on the walls and ceiling. Then he saw something else. He set Joseph up against the wall and walked towards it. A fireplace…about it were candles and heads of disfigured humans. Upon the walls, written in blood, were incomprehensible symbols. The same symbols, maybe, that Jill had told him about when she saw the blood at the fireplace. Maybe there was some truth to this occult shit after all. And then something else caught Leon's eye. Something that horrified him greater then anything he had ever seen before. It was a picture, torn, crumpled and partially burned, but a picture. It was of a family, a mother and father, and their little girl. Leon turned it around and was surprised to find a jagged, uneven writing. From what he could make out, he read:

_Mommy, wer have u gone? _

_Y did u do those things to me mommy_

_Wat did I do wrong_

_Y did you punish me_

_U ar not my mommy ar u_

_U ar a monster_

_A monster killed my mommy_

_The monster comes now_

_Comes to cut me and hurt me_

_I don't want 2 hurt none_

_Its my turn to be monster_

_My turn _

_I put on monsters mask and it is my turn_

_My turn_

_My turn my turn my turn ty murn my turn my turn _

Leon dropped the picture, he didn't have to read the remaining lines. They all said the same thing: my turn my turn. Then, behind where the picture was propped, a journal sat. Opening it, he noticed that many pages were torn out. He read the first legible entry.

"Nov. 14, 1967 The documentation of Lisa Trevor,

_When she comes…it's like a nightmare…_

_Lisa Trevor. Victim of the sacrifice to discovery._

_At age six she was kidnapped in the Umbrella institution along with her parents, George and Jessica Trevor. Her parents quickly became failed test subjects, given failed prototypes of the T-virus type A and B. Lisa became a human guinea pig for the T-virus prototype C, and later she was administered the A and B prototypes as well. Her father soon died from the stress of the virus, while her mother was locked away because of her dangerous tendencies. Why she was not ordered to be terminated, I don't know. A team of doctors was hired to record the differences in her body, while I was hired to record those of her mind. I was her psychiatrist, so to speak, I would have long sessions with her in which we'd communicate over various topics. _

_At first she was docile, a very kind and innocent child that meant no harm. But I watched as she was run through test after test, injected with a multitude of variations on the T-virus. Her mind was tested as she was put through hours, sometimes weeks, of mental torment. It was not long before she became emotionless, she seemed to care for nothing. Or so we thought. Nothing but the curiosity to life, the same curiosity her mother had, was strong in her. She was fascinated with life, though her wonder was in a rather barbaric state. She would capture rodents and insects, removing their insides and placing them all over the walls of her room. _

_But then when the accident occurred, Lisa was able to get free. It was then that all of those concealed emotions were unleashed in a ravenous fury that I shall never forget. I can still remember her scream of the scientists as she murdered them one by one. But it was how she mutilated them that is truly a nightmare. She removed the flesh upon their face, cutting open each of their chests and examining their insides while they were still alive. She then went to her mother's confinement, and tore the flesh from her face. Apparently she saw the beast her mother had become as not being her mother, but as a monster. She wears her mother's skin now, pieces of her face sewn together to form that horrid mask. The mask is her sense of attachment and love for her mother, it is all Lisa has left of her. Lisa's chains still tightly bind her legs and wrists, and her cry can be heard long before you see her. _

_She believes now it is her turn to do the experiments, her curiosity driving in acts of madness. I've seen her rip the teeth out of men's jaws, bind them and prod needles through their every inch of skin. I've witnessed her crack ribs into powder only to reach the heart and squeezes it until it bursts. Heed my warnings, whoever may read this, for when you hear the wailing of her cries and the jingling of her feet, know that only in death can you hide._

Leon cast the book into the fire, disgusted by what he saw. They must have kept her for years, Leon could hardly consider how many times she had been tortured. She was just a child. Maybe she could develop some sort of an immunity, I mean she survived all those tests. And what was the T-virus?…

"Joseph, did you hurt the assailant at all?"

"Hurt her? Jesus fucking Christ man, I pumped that bitch full of shot, right in the fucking heart. Nothing, she hardly cared."

So she was resilient…still it makes no sense. And the experiments. That was another question, the experiments here? No ordinary estate would host such things. There was something deeper to this mansion, something more then just the chemical smell of rotting death.

"…Leon?" Joseph's voice was still wrinkled with fear.

"Come on, we're leaving."

"What was it?-"

"We're leaving _now_," Leon grabbed Joseph and hauled him away with his free hand towards the door.

Suddenly Jill's faint scream echoed, chorused by a symphony of wails. Jill. No.

000

Rebecca's eyes gently fluttered as she heard the door open and click shut, followed by the groaning floorboards as footsteps prodded at them.

"Chris?" she groaned, waking up.

Had he let her fall asleep in this place? No, Chris would have been more responsible. He would have at least locked the door. She sat up in bed, looking at Chris' figure as it hung in the shadows just out of reach of the lamp beside her.

"Rebecca…" he groaned.

Immediately she was fully awake. Something was wrong.

"Chris? Chris what's the matter? Why are you hunched like that?"

Suddenly his body dropped into the light, collapsing on the floor with a groan. Rebecca let out a soft scream; his body was covered in gashes and bites marks. Blood stained his torn vest and shirt, and his fingers quivered in the gentle light.

"Oh no, Chris…" Rebecca acted quickly, kneeling at his side and rolling him over on his back.

"Rebecca…zombies…they-"

"Shut up, chris. You have to keep still and be quiet so you can maintain your heart rate and energy. Just relax and try to breathe…" her voice began to mumble as she looked for something that could disinfect whatever he had.

What do you use to cure human bites? She could see it now: Zinotec, the leading prescription in America. Cures all common minor and major infections caused by the living dead! Somehow she got the feeling she would have to improvise.

"Rebecca…"

"No Chris! Stop talk-"

"_Rebecca_…papers…cure…"

She turned around to face what looked like a very large and muscular child. His soft eyes weakened, looking pleadingly up at her, and his muscled arm gripping a bundle of blood-stained papers. Quickly Rebecca took them and began to skim what was legible. Something about a virus carried by the "infected". The antidote was in the downstairs laboratory alongside the virus…

Well that just wouldn't do at the moment, they would have to go for it after Chris rested awhile. As for now…Rebecca grabbed a box containing hopefully clean syringe needles, and a bottle containing antibiotics. Quickly she loaded the syringe needle and applied the healing chemicals to Chris' arm. Geez, he didn't react to the shot at all, it was like he didn't even feel it. She removed the needle and tossed it in the corner of the room. Next was bandages and perhaps something to wash the wounds with. Rebecca turned and felt her heart stop.

A man stood in the shadows of the room, a very tall man. She couldn't see his face, nor anything of his body but a black silhouette against the lamp's dim glow. All she could see was the soft gleam of his eyes. His red eyes.

"Good evening," he said in a deep tone, "I'm afraid you'll have to leave Mr. Redfield to tend for himself. You're coming with me."

Chris coughed and wheezed in objection-

and the man suddenly stuck a needle into Rebecca's neck.

"No!" Chris snarled as he choked.

Rebecca's thoughts clouded together, her vision blurred as she fell to her knees. Her legs went numb, and she blacked out.


	9. Ch 9: All is Revealed

Please everyone, forgive the horribly long delay. Very impossible computer trouble...anyways, I hope you find this next entry to be horrific. Oh, and please ignore the massive gap in the timeline when you stumble upon the Master Chief. That was simply a joke between my friend and I, on who was better Leon Kennedy or Master Chief from Halo. Who do you think is better?

* * *

Chapter Nine

Jill had not been able to venture greatly into the deepening realm of the elusive basement. She was fatigued and dehydrated to the point that she could taste the salt upon her dry lips. Her sweaty palms clutched the steel of the magnum as she moved through the firelight of burning torches. She knew not where she was going, but only followed what noises she had heard. Screams and crying. She thought at one point she had heard Leon, but she couldn't have been for sure. Oh no, Leon. He had told her to wait when she had first fallen, said he would be right back. It wasn't like there was anything she could have done, but the thought of him struggling to find her only to discover she was gone was just wrenching at the heart. Perhaps she would be able to find him, though no one really knows in this place.

The sticking heat trifled her to the point that she removed her beret and heavy shoulder pads, discarding them along the corridor she followed. She had come to many passages that met up with the particular hall she traversed through, however she ordained that she stay along the path she was on. She wasn't sure, but it felt as though she was gradually ascending. The walls were no longer of dirt or wood planks, but solid stone. Her footsteps sounded out in distant echoes, yet at the same time they gave off a secluded feeling of cramped lonesomeness. And then Jill stopped walking, she stopped moving, stopped breathing, and felt her heart stop. Thumping, continual, heavy, thumping that came in a muffled echo. Closer, closer and closer it came. Coming towards her from the darkness, coming like a nightmare. Then she saw it, the golden orange silhouette become illuminated in the torchlight, before disappearing into blackness. Then again, the barrage of jingling chains, and it disappeared in the darkness. Then again, mouth gaping and yellow eyes glinting, then disappearing again. Closer and closer. And then it wailed, a horrible awful scraping, gnawing cry that curled Jill's flesh.

Jill rose the magnum and fired round after round at the beast as it flashed in and out of the flames, it's wet, black hair lashing about as it thrashed from each slug. The head, shoot it in the head. She pulled the trigger again and again, until the cacophony of gunshots was silenced by panicky clicks. She had nailed it twice, right in the skull, but it kept coming. It could not be killed. It wouldn't die. Jill ran.

She could hear it breathing, her it snorting and grunting and crying meaningless words as it charged behind her, jingling chains and thumping feet in a rhythmic beat that orchestrated Jill's approaching death. Suddenly the hall was emitted into a large, circular room, and a wide pit lay etched in shadow suddenly stood between Jill and the room. Was it too wide to jump? She couldn't answer before he feet left the solid floor, and feeling completely enveloped by nothing but space. And then her ribs slammed into the opposite edge. She turned to see the nightmare jump and land easily upon the other side. It turned, and she saw the stitches upon its face, the rotting teeth, the blood that blanketed its rags and skin. Anyway way of escape, and so Jill let go. But suddenly she felt a horrible, screaming agony in her left hand. The pain yanked her short, and she wasn't falling, she was hanging. She felt the bones in her hand crackle and snap as she looked up to see the monster had her hand by a hook jutted through her palm. Jill screamed in horror as she was slowly pulled back up, back towards the nightmare.

"No…no no please…no," Jill cried, she was defenseless.

The searing twinge pulsated through her entire hand and temples, and she could do nothing but grit her teeth as the monster took a firm grip upon her hair and pulled her upon the ledge. Jill again screamed as the hook was slowly twisted and turned, ripping free of her bone and flesh. She looked at the gaping hole in her palm, and felt her hand go completely useless in its misery. She looked up at her killer, who slowly rose the hook yet again, looking into her face. And as the demon stared her back down, she could only mutter a single word, "…why?…"

And to her greater fear, the demon spoke in a gritty croak,_ "My…turn…"_

Jill shut her eyes and prayed she would go into shock soon. Suddenly she heard the creature scream, wailing in fury before it was silenced by another roar. The blast of a shotgun, and Jill felt the monster release her. Jill opened her eyes to see Leon leap over the gap and tackle the monster full on. The two rolled away into the middle of the large room, lit by hundreds of brilliant candle lights and lanterns. The monster rolled to her feet and snarled at Leon who tried to defend himself with another blast from the shotgun. But the demon was too fast as hooked the shotgun and tore it from Leon's grasp. The shotgun clattered to the stone floor and the monster was free to pin Leon to the ground. Leon screamed and drove his survival knife into her throat. Gurgling and choking upon steel and her own blood, the monster rose and stumbled away. Jill rose to see Leon crawl rise to his feet to oppose the hunched drooping figure.

"Lisa…" Leon suddenly said, "You don't want to hurt anymore people. We came here to help you."

Jill was shocked, was he talking to it?

_"NO!"_ was the croak that came from Lisa as she ripped the knife free from her throat, _"You killed mother! My Turn!"_

Leon suddenly spun around and thrust his foot into Lisa but she stopped it with her hands, stopped it cold. Leon winced in pain as she squeezed it before suddenly flipping him sideways into the air. He landed sharply against the stone and rolled away just before she slashed at him with the hook. Leon stood and threw his fist into the monster's face but she caught it with the curve of the hook and twisted his arm around, flipping him over her head and onto his back behind her. Again she turned and slashed but he was quick to stumble away.

Leon rolled to his feet and again pleaded, "Lisa! Stop this! Why do you want this?"

She screamed and charged again, bringing the hook to his sternum before he halted it with his hands. Quivering under bent frustration of survival and bloodlust, the hook drove steadily closer to Leon's ribs.

"Leon!" Jill cried.

"Lisa! Listen to me…" Leon growled through gritted teeth, "Let it go, Lisa…Let it go!"

_"Never!"_

"Fine…" Leon choked before grabbing at her face and ripping a mask free.

Jill gaped in horror as she realized it was someone's skin, sewn together in pieces and shredded. Lisa's withered and torn face was like the bark of a rotted tree, wrinkled and twisted in itself with black eyes. She screamed in horror as Leon threw the mask over the ledge into blackness. Lisa ran past Leon and dove over the ledge, screaming _"Mother" _over and over again as she fell into oblivion.

"Rest in peace, Lisa," Leon whispered.

Jill, horrified and amazed, turned her gaze towards Leon. The nice, easy guy, smeared in blood and the impurity of rage. He breathed heavily, his shoulders rising and falling in a panted exhaustion. She had mistaken him greatly. He was neither some macho man or a coward. He was a hero. Then everything broke out of the slow silence it had sunk into, and Leon turned and ran to Jill's side.

"Jill, Jill are you all right?" he said immediately helping her sit up.

Jill could hardly even look at him, she felt so weak. And yet, she whispered through her pain and tears in a short, quivering voice, "Thank you."

And quietly she let her head rest upon Leon's shoulder, letting a moment of rest break through. He held her, breathing for a moment in partial relief. And then Jill heard Joseph's voice, "Holy fucking shit man! You were insane! No no no no, you were _beyond _insane man! You were like some kinda hero!"

Joseph lay in the corner along the wall on the other side of the pit, applauding. Leon could only smile and shake his head, "Well whatever, I'm just glad you're all safe."

"Safe nothin' man, you kicked that bitch's _ass_! You put freakin' Superman to shame! Hell, you make that Master Chief loser look like a fuckin' pansy!"

Leon turned back to Jill and smiled, and she could only shiver in the prolonging pain and barely raise her lips in return. She was astonished, but everything just felt better now.

000

The man watched the monitors silently, saying nothing with his fingers gently tapping his lips in thought. The silvery green of the screens illuminated his gripped, muscular body, his brilliant red eyes glinting against the radiant, buzzing glow. Barry's eyes stung from the sharp contrast between the room's blackness and the bright glow from the monitor screens. Yet despite his horrid suffering, Barry remained in a state of reprieve. His friends were yet again safe.

"Well," the man's cool, collected voice pierced the air like a needle, "Leon Scott Kennedy has surpassed this house and all its glory with reprimanding skill. Jill's failure was most embarrassing, as it appears women cannot do all that men can. Then again, Joseph and Chris fell behind, surprisingly enough, near the beginning of our little experiment-"

"What's the matter with you. Those are people's lives, people are dying. You're killing them!"

"Really? Hmm…Now I may be blunt when I propose the question: _what is your point?_ What makes a human any different from any other animal that god, or man, put on this earth? Is it our mind? More complex is it? No, the mind's simply our only defense, of course it has to be complex. Our only way of survival, is all in our brain. You cannot possibly understand what I am trying to do. I am trying to help the human race. I am trying to bring our strength to the maximum power of our minds, make us equal so we no longer need mechanical weapons. That is what these tests serve! Can you not see my perspective? This is all for the sake of science and our survival!"

"Fuck your perspective. What have you done with Rebecca?"

"Why do you even ask, you old fool. As you could probably have guessed Rebecca evened out the odds against you all by being the medical genius that she is. So I simply isolated her from the rest of you and decided to put her through a little test as well."

"You sick bastard…"

"Yes well," and the man leaned in close, his hot, putrid breath upon Barry's nostrils, "You're going to be forced to put up with my bastard-like traits for some time. Unless of course you wish to come home to the ravaged remains of your family…"

Barry was silent, looking away from the monstrosity.

"I have tested every single member of the two S.T.A.R.S. teams except one, now haven't I? And which one would that be…hmm…oh! Why it's you, Barry, darling. I have only one little specific test for you, simply because I have previously seen your physical, mental, and all around prowess in other situations. Yes, only one simple examination. Your obedience, your obedience to me as your commander, your controller. Your god. In this obedience test, you will be taught a very important lesson, Barry. You will be taught that your loyalties lie with no one but the man who holds the key to your family's…_security_. And I am that man."

000

Rebecca's eyes fluttered, her brain thumping and pulsing inside her skull. She felt the nausea and remaining slur of the shot she had been given. Her sluggish movements left her with only a vague perception as she gradually awoke in the hot dark. Immediately she heard the crackling roar of fire, and felt the dense sticky sweat of hell. She looked about her at the large chamber she lay in, surrounded by four massing fires kept from her by only simple stone chimneys and black, wraught iron bars. The room was dark, medieval, and satanic. Everything moved, or seemed to move, swayed by the firelight. A multitude of chains dangled from the shadows of the ceiling. Then in the corner she saw four ghostly white figures, illuminated by the fiery glow. They were busts of four, nearly identical, bald men.

Her knees quivering and her skin tight with an aching pain, she rose and began to walk to them. She looked at the first to see it had no eyes, as though they had been chiseled out. The next had no mouth, the third had no nose, and the fourth had no nose, mouth, nor any eyes. She looked down at the foot of each pedestal to find four stone masks, each similar to the four faces above them. They lay in the dirt, each mask below the bust they matched with.. In the middle of the small marble pieces lay a large and very old book. Rebecca's curiosity was overpowering, and she knelt down and scooped up the heavy thing. In the dim firelight she read the title which stated simply: "The book of Curse."

Hesitantly, she opened it's black bindings, and came to the first and only page with writing on it. It read:

The Four Masks,

A Mask that Sees no evil…

A Mask that Speaks no evil…

A Mask that Smells no evil…

A Mask that cannot See, Speak, nor Smell evil…

When all four have fallen into place, evil will awaken.

Rebecca dropped the book. All she need do was place the pieces correctly into the masks. But what would be the result? _Evil will awaken…_

She turned her gaze to the room behind her and was suddenly shaken by something she had not seen before. A coffin, suspended from the ceiling by four long chains, loomed over her. Upon its black face was the carving of a screaming women, her fingers twisting and gnarled about a star. A silver inscription was placed along the women's chest. It read simply: _"Here hangs the body of Jessica Trevor. Loving mother of Lisa Trevor."_

Rebecca turned back to the masks. This was a setup, some kind of trap or game or something. Rebecca remembered the man who had kidnapped her. Was he just toying with her? She noticed a crowbar that laid beside the pieces of marble and the book, and she picked it up. The crowbar, the marble pieces laid right there, the Book of Curse, and the coffin. A weapon, a puzzle, a clue, and a threat. It was a test. Rebecca looked around the room once more. Well it wasn't as though she had an alternative choice, she simply had to pass the test. Quickly moving to the masks, she began to piece them together. The eyes for the first, the mouth for the second, the nose for the third, and all three again for the fourth. As she pushed in the last piece, the mouth, she heard a massive clunk, and levers and gears begin to crank above. She watched as slowly the coffin was lowered down, down towards the floor. With a loud metallic slam dust was thrown up, and the gears and cranks again went silent. Nothing now, nothing except a gentle…quick…breathing. Panting, from within the coffin. Rebecca clutched the crowbar tightly, her hazel eyes fixed upon the metal. And then suddenly, a screech was heard from within coffin. It was flung open as two hands were thrust from its black insides. The gnarling fingers, groping at air, the arms, all were glistening red. They were skinned, and only shreds of flesh still hung from the bones and bloody muscle. The scream croaked and screeched, as slowly a head rose, long black hair that lay in tangled dreads hung from a meaty, bloody scalp.

Rebecca watched in horror as the head darted this way and that, sniffing the air for what it new was its prey. It's head cocked and twisted round like a bird, and then suddenly it leapt to its feet and turned towards Rebecca. No eyes, only black sockets of a skull, and a lipless skeleton grin that sneered at her. Its bones seemed to be on the outside of the meaty muscle and bloody fat that hung from its maggoty body. Long, spider like legs protruded from its back, edged with blood-stained claws. Its horrid muscles could be seen pumping through its furry skin and bone as it slowly crawled towards Rebecca in a scuttling motion, sniffing and snarling in a ravenous curiosity. And suddenly it leapt at her. Rebecca screamed and barely fell away, crawling backwards and staring at the creature that now clung to the wall. It opened its horrid, salivating mouth that lay littered with multiple tongues and rows of jagged teeth and-

and suddenly a door in the far corner of the room began to open. Rebecca didn't hesitate as she stood, striking the beast once across the face and running for escape.

000

"Barry you fool! Get away from the controls!" the man staggered upon his hands and knees, suffering the massive blow he had received to the jaw.

Barry stood, opening the door for Rebecca and hoping to god she could run fast enough.

"Barry!-"

"I've had it up to here with your bull shit," Barry roared, "You murdered my friends, you murdered Chris! You threatened my family!"

Barry turned once more and grabbed the man by his black collar shirt. He opened the door to the room and hurled out into the large laboratory. The man's limp body collapsed and crumpled into a row of computers.

"I've listened to your insane bitching for the last time. Now it's my turn to torment you."

"Barry," the man choked and pleaded, "Don't do this…leave me be. You don't want to hurt your family, do you?"

"I don't believe you, you sniveling son of a bitch! If you really have your men waiting at my house, where's your damn phone?"

Barry picked the man up and flung him against a wall. Drawing back his massive fist, he suddenly thrust it forth, aiming for the man's jaw. And suddenly a searing, gripping pain went up his forearm. The man had stopped his fist cold, and now slowly crushed it in his own grasp.

"I warned you, Barry…I told you not to defy me. But you leave me no choice but to punish you."

Suddenly he twisted Barry's fist round. The man grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air, his red eyes glaring furiously. He wasn't human, and Barry felt it as he began to choke and gasp for air. The man began to beat his head against the metal wall. Barry struggled for air as he was suddenly thrown up and kicked into the far wall. He collapsed against the cold floor, feeling those strange zig zag diamond shapes that metal always has along floors. And then he heard the man's heavy boots clunking along towards him before he was again picked up and brought face to face with those red eyes.

"You don't believe me? then I suppose proof is necessary."

And Barry watched in horror as the man removed a phone from his pocket and said simply, "Kill one of them. We have a point to prove."

_"Yes sir,"_ came a static reply.

Barry shook his head as tears swelled into his eyes, listened as the phone was put up to his ear and he could hear the sound of footsteps. And suddenly screaming, and then everything went silent as a distant gun shot echoed through the small speaker.

"No…no no no no…no…" the man let Barry drop to his knees.

"I told you," said the man.

Barry let out a scream as he gripped his head in his hands.

"Listen to me, Barry. Listen," said the man, becoming strangely docile, "Now is the time when your life is going to change. You're going to obey me now, and you're going to do everything I say, and your family won't be hurt anymore. Understood?"

Barry slowly rose his head, staring into those vermilion eyes. And he nodded.

"Good, it is now time to rectify this situation."

000

Rebecca scrambled through the door just to hear the horrible thing leap behind her. She sprinted up twisting stairs, pushing dangling chains out of her way as she climbed the old steps. Over her shoulder she looked to see the thing clinging to chains and walls, leaping after her in great bounds. It howled and scorned her like a ravenous animal, it's croaking snarling grunts like nothing she had ever heard. She reached the top of the stairs and turned to see the monster. Only it was not there, it was gone. Rebecca then felt the cold of the night, and she realized she was outside. In the midst of a wrought iron fence, tombstones surrounded her in tall, gently wavering grass. The monster had disappeared. She turned hesitantly away from the cellar that glowed orange from the firelight, turning towards the mansion which stood with its back towards her. A back door lay in the distance of the fog, and quickly she ran towards it. Climbing the steps, she took one last look. Nothing, and so she ran safely into the back door of the mansion and shut it behind her.

Leon, carrying Joseph and guiding Jill, emerged from the basement depths the way he and Jill had first entered hours ago. He closed and locked the doors behind him, and the three made their way back into the main hall. They were weaponless now. Nothing remained save Leon's Desert Eagle, and that was empty however Jill had been thoughtful enough to return it to him. Once in the middle of the hall, Leon set Joseph down and let Jill rest beside him before finally plopping down himself. All three were weary, stained with dirt and blood, their minds scarred.

"Leon," Joseph spoke randomly, "If we ever get out…I walked that whole way up."

"Yea, sure," said Leon panting.

Jill spoke next, "What do we do now?"

"We get out," Leon said, "We find anyone we can and we get out of here."

"How? What do you want to do? Walk back?" Joseph put in.

"No, certainly this place has vehicles or something."

Suddenly the door, looming in the back slammed shut and all three jumped. Leon was at his feet in a second, only to see the teary eyed figure of Rebecca stumble down the stairs. Her white vest was covered in blood.

"Oh Jesus," Leon whispered as he ran to help her to the others, "Rebecca are you all right?"

Her eyes were torn, her expression of shock and fear as she replied simply, "Chris is dead…Chris and the others are dead…monsters…"

"Hush, sit down. I want you get a hold of yourself and calm down. You're safe now, we're here. You're safe, nothing else is going to happen to you. We're not splitting up anymore, we're sticking together."

Jill watched in amazement at how caring Leon was. He and Rebecca had known each other well enough at the academy, but not all that long. They simply stuck together because they were both rookies. And in an istant he had pulled her out of her state of paranoia, Jill could see it as she looked at him now.

"We-we're…we're staying together?"

"Yes, that's right, we're not leaving you alone again."

"Do-do you promise?"

"Of course."

"So it's it then. We're getting out of here," said Joseph, "Let's go."

"But what about the others?" asked Jill.

"Didn't you hear her?" Joseph snapped, "They're all dead."

Jill went silent, the thought finally sinking in. She felt gutted. Then suddenly the doors from the west opened, and they all looked. Barry.

"Barry!" Leon stood, "Jesus your arm! Come here sit down we'll look at it."

But immediately Leon knew something was wrong, the determination in Barry's steps, the look of fear in his eyes.

"Barry…?" asked Leon, "You okay?"

"Listen Leon, I want you to know how sorry I am. But there's no other way."

And suddenly Barry swung the handle of his Colt Python around towards Leon's face. Leon blocked and was ready to spin around with a kick but he was grabbed and felt Barry's brick-fist explode into his side. He howled in pain and turned to feel the gun hit his temple, and he fell to the floor. As his vision blurred and he went black he could hear Barry shouting, "Get back Joseph! I'm sorry but there's no other way, just get out of here while you still can!"

And Leon blacked out.

000

When slowly he surfaced from the oblivion he had sunk in, Leon smelled the bitter fumes of chemicals and the stench of dead fetal pigs soaked in formaldehyde for high school dissection. He felt fluorescent lights, he heard their dim buzz, and he heard breathing. And bubbles, he heard bubbling, but that was faint. His vision cleared, and the first thing he saw was Albert Wesker, dead. The man's long, lean body sat against a wall, his sunglasses still over his eyes. A bullet hole was in his temple, and dried splotches and trails of blood stained his cheek, neck, and shirt. It was then that Leon noticed Barry's shuffling boots beside him.

"Barry…you're a traitor, you asshole," was all that Leon could muster.

Barry remained silent, tears in his eyes as he clenched them shut. Something still wasn't clear in this situation, and as Leon looked out of the corner of his eye he saw roughly where they were. It was a large laboratory, or so it seemed. Computers, lab equipment, test tubes, chemical tubs, trays, mainframes, wires running this way and that, cabinets, chryo-freezing chambers, all of this cluttered the large dimly lit room. Everything was covered in dust; this place had been abandoned for some time. And all over the dark room, their seemed to be a strange glow. A mint green, vague illumination that shown upon every surface. It was coming from behind Leon, and hesitantly he turned and-

"Jesus Christ," he could barely whisper as he stared at the monstrosity.

A glass tank in the shape of a cylinder, nearly twice the size of Leon, stood against the wall. A mint green colored fluid filled it completely, and it was sealed off by a lid clamped tightly down with massive bolts. On either side of the tank were what looked to be large control panels of some sort, hundreds of black and red wires running from them to the top and bottom of the tube. Into the tube, through holes on the lid, the wires wound around the tank and were all connected to the thing. Upon a computer screen for the controls was a picture of an hour glass with the words _"98 completion for revival of Tyrant Project" _above it. The digitalized hour glass was nearly empty. What was the thing? Was it dead? No it was alive, but what was it? It wasn't human, it wasn't animal, it wasn't anything. No no no, he had seen enough scary shit to last him a lifetime of bad horror movies, this was too much. He wasn't seeing this, no way.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" came the cool, crisp voice of Albert Wesker.

Leon turned in abrupt shock to see Wesker slunk out of the shadows of the room as though he was one of them.

"Wesker…?"

"Yes, I know. Shocking, but to the surprise of most humans, a man's body and brain can endure a great many things, even a gunshot such as this one. Of course Barry didn't know that when he first shot me…but he realizes my strength now."

Wesker shot a glance back at Barry, the man's large figure huddled in the shadows. Leon watched, too baffled to say anything, as Wesker stepped past him and stood before the glowing tank. He rose his arms, and gently touched his finger tips to the glass.

"Marvelous…" he whispered.

Suddenly Leon felt aware of something strange in his gut. A new feeling of terror grew as he felt the rope of trust between him and Wesker snap. He slowly stepped back, grasping at a table behind him for the nearest weapon. He found nothing.

"Going somewhere, Leon Scott Kennedy?"

"Wesker…" Leon had to avoid that topic, "What is going on?"

At last Wesker turned away from the black figure of the monster in the tank, and brought his gaze upon Leon, "Oh what? You haven't figured it out yet? I see. Well of course not, this estate has a secret that goes much deeper then your police work could possibly fathom. Nevertheless, I shall explain a few things to you. To begin with, I am not a member of S.T.A.R.S. and I am not a police officer."

"You-…what?"

"To further your obvious disbelief, I am a man of science. In fact, I am the leading scientist, or rather I was the leading scientist at this research facility, here in the depths of the Spencer Estate mansion."

Leon at this point was completely flipped around, he thought it best to stay quiet and listen.

"As you can see, this mansion is no ordinary mansion. It is a mask, a mask that hides the true purpose of this estate: discovery. Imagine, if you will, a chemical weapon that is so powerful, it can turn give a man not only the gift of long lasting life, but ultimate strength and prowess. A drug with no side effects, no dangers, simply the wine of gods given to grace mankind. Mankind would no longer need our great technological weapons, no more nuclear power, no more guns, no more mass destruction. We'd have true strength, we'd be the true hunters ourselves, no more need to hide behind mechanisms and steel. We could have the perfect soldiers, infected with this virus. They could, in turn, infect the entire world, so that we were all perfect. This is what we were trying to create. This is what we were trying to discover. And after decades of research and stained history, we had produced what it was we had been searching for. Right here, in this very laboratory, we created the T-virus. That is when we began to test what it could do. The knowledge we gained was precious, yet we had no comprehension of just what its true powers were. Even less, did we know, of how little control we had over it.

"The massive organization that now funds and covers up our research was extremely interested in this idea, so we found our source of expenses. However the virus was never perfected, and it would turn those who it infected into mindless, hunger-crazed zombies. Then one day, a month ago or so, an accident occurred. The Lisa Trevor subject, I see you've met her already, broke free. In the midst of the chaos the virus was spilled and became air born, and within a matter of hours those who had been infected became the undead. They sought nothing but to feed upon the warm flesh of those still living. They roamed the mansion, eating and infecting the depleting survivors, turning them into zombies as well. But there is more. The Cerberus, the dogs outside, were a test subject used in which small increments of the virus was placed in their food. They became the ravenous, wild dogs that currently roam the grounds of the estate, set free when the accident occurred. There were also other animals we would experiment with, the mutations were magnificent. And then, of course, there was the Tyrant Project."

Wesker ceased talking and turned towards the glowing tank again.

"Yes," he continued, touching the glass, "The Tyrant Project was my idea. I wanted something more. I wanted a soldier, _the _perfect soldier who would rampage about a city, unstoppable as it spread the infection by force. I wanted something more then perfect I wanted a nightmare to walk the earth, infecting and horrifying its prey. So I had sought out to inject the T-virus directly into a man's body, creating the Tyrant. However the man himself was not obedient, and so we were forced to keep him quarantined because of his behavior. And when the accident occurred…all my research was lost…"

Leon felt no pity for Wesker as he said, "Wesker. Why are we here? Why would you let us come down here? Why impersonate a S.T.A.R.S. member?"

Wesker turned back towards Leon and grinned, "After the accident, I found ways by myself to continue my research. The only problem was, I had no specimens with which I could test my theories about the T-virus. I even, in certain cases, used myself as a guinea pig. The results…were quite exquisite…"

Suddenly he removed his glasses, and Leon saw his eyes. His brilliant, red eyes.

"But this wasn't enough. And still I was not able to find the perfect soldier that I wanted. And so, I devised a plan. Sneaking my way in, with the help of the organization I now work for, I would become a S.T.A.R.S. team leader, and recruit the best of the best out of select categories of force. Chris Redfield, the U.S. marines. Barry Burton, the U.S. army. Jill Valentine, a renowned thief and escape artist until she was caught. You, Leon Kennedy, highest ranking officer out of the academy in the past fifteen years. On and on, I sought out the best, and then I timed it all perfectly. After I had recruited the two teams, I ordered that the gates of the mansion be opened, to let the infected spread and begin attacking innocent locals. That would attract the attention of the S.T.A.R.S. and lure you into the estate.

"Once here I would begin my test: who was the best specimen for my next experiment. Out of all of you, who would best suit the identity of the perfect soldier? One by one I watched as your team members died off or were severely injured and forced to rely on others to survive. Your teams dwindled down until only one remained standing. One who was the perfect soldier to be. That perfect soldier is you, Leon. And now that you have succeeded, I congratulate you. You have surpassed your teammates in the worst of situations."

"Where are the others, Wesker? Where are they!"

"Oh, they are either dead or walking as the lifeless corpses bent on feeding upon warm flesh. Those who were left alive are set free, for there's really nothing they can do to stop me."

"They'll warn the government, you didn't stop to think about that?"

"Please! Haha, the company I work for _owns _the government. We own everything, here, you can't escape us. You haven't even realized the company I work for? Fool! The leading in biological and medical studies, building Racccoon City into what it is! How do you think I found my status as the ranking S.T.A.R.S. officer? Umbrella Corporation. They own me and they own you, Leon."

Leon was stupefied. Umbrella Corporation was funding this maniac? Nothing seemed real, the false reality that Leon had stood on before was suddenly stripped beneath him and now he was falling into bewilderment. Stumbling on his words, trying to make maintain a calm frame of mind, he asked, "So how does Barry tie into all this?"

"Oh, Leon, he's just a pawn. I needed his strength to lure you in, and with a simple threat he gave in. You fools should learn, love for another can never do you good. You should love only yourself and your work. A simple threat to his family and he broke to my will."

"Wesker…" Leon's paranoia slowly grasping the better of him, "You're insane…"


	10. Ch 10: Mechanized Hell

Chapter Ten

The immediate second that Barry had knocked Leon to the floor Joseph had lunged forward with what strength he could. His shoulder, however, hindered his movements and Barry had instinctively rose his Colt Python to defend himself as he bellowed, "Get back Joseph! I'm sorry but there's no other way! Just get out of here while you still can!"

Joseph felt every impulse rise against the gun that just waited for him. He wanted to charge. He wanted to grab the fat man by his beard and beat him to a bloody pulp. But…dammit he'd be too slow.

"Barry, why are you doing this?" Jill pleaded.

"I can't explain! Now leave this place and forget about everyone else. Tell everyone that you three were the only survivors, now get out of here!"

"Barry this isn't like you," Rebecca was practically speechless.

"That doesn't matter, none of this matters and none of it happened, understand? Now listen, on the west side of the mansion there's a second residence next to a garage. The garage should have vehicles you can drive out of here, okay? Just get to the mansion, and get out of here!"

Barry gazed at them all pleadingly. There wasn't hatred, wasn't betrayal, but subsidence. Barry's eyes went to Joseph, and he started a moment longer before picking Leon's body up and carrying him up the stairs, disappearing into shadow. They heard a door open and slam shut, and immediately Joseph yelled and kicked over the nearest stand of candles in frustration at his failure. Leon had rescued him, why the hell didn't he do the same?

"Joseph!" Jill yelled, grabbing him by the arm, "Calm down, that's not going to help any of us."

Joseph turned towards her, the tension of his hatred for himself building as he looked at the floor, "Jill! He took Leon!"

"I know, Joseph, I know. But right now, there's nothing we can do, all right? He has a gun, and we don't, he's strong and we're not, and he has a hostage. All right?"

"But…but we have to get Leon back…" Joseph's fists were quivering.

"I know, and we will, Joseph. We will. But right now we have to worry about getting out of here so we can come back with help."

"Go and come back?" Joseph said in astonishment, "You mean leave my friend?"

"Joseph…"

"No! I'm going to get him now!"

Joseph turned to follow Barry. Jill had to say something, she had to stop Joseph. Reluctantly, she said the only thing she thought would stop him, "Joseph! Don't go! We need you!"

Joseph stopped and turned to her, in partial disbelief, "You what?"

"We need you…to…protect us."

Joseph began to step back towards Jill and Rebecca. He bit his lip and nodded grimly, "All right, fine. Let's go."

An explosion of lightning and thunder sounded together, illuminating the dark hall, but that was not all that startled the three survivors. From every side of the mansion, a horrible cacophony of chanting and hollering cries rose up with the thunder. Louder and louder, the haunting chants grew. Drum rolls of fists began to thud and echo against the doors, walls, and windows. The two large main doors leading to the outside rattled and shook upon their hinges. Roaring and screaming, moaning and clawing, scraping and scratching in want for the three inside the main hall.

"God…" Jill whispered to herself, "What is it?"

"Go," said Joseph as he stared at the doors, every last one on the first floor rattling and quivering as the pounding force upon the other side screamed in hunger, "Go!"

He pushed Jill and Rebeca towards the stairs as suddenly a loud crashing sound threw open the doors to the dining hall left of them. Lightning and thunder roared, and in the white flare Joseph saw them. Teaming hordes, like a furious mob stained with blood and rot they came. Zombies, all of them slumping, crawling, groping towards him. He looked behind him to see the main doors thrust open, and another wave of zombies flooded in. The doors at the right burst open, and a third wave of the hideous dead came urging forth.

"Joseph run!" Jill called from the upper balcony.

Joseph bolted, pumping his legs up the first set of stairs as the masses of zombies mobbed after him. Above their concerted cries he heard an intense wailing moan, turning to see several of them running. _Running_. Their bleak white eyes glowered at him as they broke through the mobs, coming towards him as they gnashed their yellow teeth and stained claws.

"Oh shit!" Joseph exclaimed before he turned and pounded up the stairs.

He reached the balcony just as the mob flooded after him upon the stairs. There Jill and Rebecca waited at one of the doors.

"Come on! Joseph run! Faster Joseph they're coming!"

Joseph ran into the door way and turned to help the two close and lock the door behind them. No lock.

"Keep running," demanded Joseph.

The three pounded down a dark red hallway, the wall paper ripped and torn from the walls, bits of wood scattered about as though it had been completely ransacked. As they rounded a corner the sound of splintered wood and roars lit a flame beneath their adrenaline, and Joseph pushed the girls faster. The thunderous roll of feet pounded closer around the edges of the hall behind them. They rounded another corner and came to the first door, Joseph through his foot into it.

"Ow! Mother fucker!" the door didn't even budge.

"Joseph…" Jill mumbled as she threw her own foot into the door and it was thrust open.

They broke into yet another hallway, and Joseph turned quickly to close the door again. It wouldn't shut completely, the luck was busted. Oh what a coincidence. The hallway rounded right, guided by a railing that overlooked the first floor. Stairs were to the right, and further down the hall continued.

"Go down the stairs," Joseph demanded, "Go!"

"Joseph, come on!" Rebecca pleaded as she looked over her shoulder going down the stairs.

"No, move! They won't see you! I'll meet you at the other mansion!"

Just as Jill and Rebecca reached the bottom of the stairs the door was thrust open and the ravenous monsters rampaged through. They rounded the hall and were completely oblivious to the stairs as they saw Joseph standing further down the hallway beside an array of windows.

One of the zombies who was running stopped and stared, snarling as its brilliant white eyes glared. Joseph's own eyes shifted from every bloody, rotting face that looked at him. They didn't see Rebecca and Jill, good.

The crimson headed beast in front lunged, and the horde of zombies followed him. Joseph bolted, coming to the nearest window he opened it and slipped out.

Joseph immediately collapsed upon a slanting roof below. He rolled to his feet and began his escape again, carefully moving along the roof. The heaving mass of creatures began to rattle and break at the glass, their clinging hands of blood and torn flesh curling at him with gnarled expressions. Suddenly an explosion of glass erupted beside Joseph as he felt bloody clawed hands grope him, and one of the faster zombies tackle him headlong. Joseph was tossed down on his back, the monster's long hair thrashing as it beat his head into the roof in a pulsating rage. Joseph managed to scramble away, pausing briefly to look at his attacker. Jesus Christ it was Forrest Speyer. His once fellow teammate snarled at him, his matted hair sticky with blood, his body a perforated massacre of bones and blood. He charged and the two toppled off the roof into the woods below.

Joseph landed, his adrenaline throwing him to his feet before the monster could even reconcile with where they were, and he ran. Through the woods, down a slowly descending hill. Soon he heard the gruff, determined pants of Forrest as he hunted Joseph. Joseph turned to see the white eyes and flailing hair of Forrest, his mouth gaping and screaming. Faster, must go faster. Joseph cursed his shoulder, cursed the forest, cursed _Forrest_, cursed police business, and cursed his crappy boots. Suddenly he could see the second residence, he could see the lights of what looked like a massive log cabin. Ahead of him was a black wrought iron gate that lay open. Gotta make it, gotta move faster. Joseph felt the growing tension that built behind him, making him desperately want to turn to see the beast behind him. But he refused.

Joseph burst through it and swung it shut behind him just to hear it begin rattling at Forrest shook it in frustration, trying to open it. But Joseph didn't stop, no he didn't stop as he pumped through a small, overgrown garden. He didn't stop as he slammed into the single door, opening it and falling in, and slamming it shut behind him. He slumped against the door, finally at rest. There he panted, thanking god for the silence.

"Joseph?"

Joseph screamed and fell flat on his back, throwing his feet up into the air. It was Jill and Rebecca, their horrified faces staring at him in the dim light of a hallway.

"You okay?" asked Rebecca timidly.

"Oh…you know," Joseph said between his gasps, "Can't complain."

They helped him to his feet and Joseph began to relax enough so that he could observe his surroundings. The walls were lined planks of wood, as was the floor and ceiling. Everything was made of wood. Cobwebs covered the ceilings and walls and any possible corner. Floorboards were pried up, uneven, and rusted nails jutted out all over the floors and walls. It smelled strongly of fresh pine mixed with must and decay.

"What is this? The guesthouse?" asked Joseph.

Jill hesitantly opened a door, it's rusted hinges squeaking as it revealed a dark room lined with several beds and bookshelves, lamps, and dressers. The room was covered in cobwebs, and a single window was at the far end, light spilling in from its curtained mouth. She closed the door.

"It looks more like a housing facility," she said gazing around the room to find other doors.

"For who?"

"Maids, cleaning staff, any sort of employees probably," said Jill as she they treaded quietly down the hallway. They came to a door opposite the first, it's frame and face covered thickly to find another bedroom. A ceiling fan was on, its light shining upon the room. Slowly the fan's blades spun around and around, making an uneasy squeak that repeated again and again. And there upon the bed was a shotgun.

"Oh hell yes!" exclaimed Joseph as he picked up the Winchester and held it thankfully.

Beside it was a box of shotgunshells, and he loaded six into the empty gun and tucked the rest into his pockets. He tried to hold it, awkwardly setting it because of his damaged shoulder. His arm jointed to the wound was weak, and it ached, but he bit his lip and dealt with it. Jill and Rebecca entered somberly behind him, both of them noticing what he had not: a dribbling trail of blood that led along the floor and up the wall. The vertical blood trail smeared up the wall and disappeared into a dark hole in the ceiling, the entire ceiling was draped in cobwebs. Joseph noticed the girls' frightened glances and followed their eyes to see the hole himself.

"Oh shit," he said.

"Let's just keep moving," Jill demanded, grabbing Rebecca and walking out of the room.

Joseph followed, closing the door behind him. Once back in the hall, Joseph became aware of the stirring silence that sought for his trembling fear. Nothing moved, nothing sounded, nothing lived. It was utterly silent, and none of the three felt it easy to breathe. They moved cautiously down the dark hall towards the only remaining door at the far end, opposite where they had entered the residence. It was a set of double doors, dark oak, blanketed completely in thick webs. Their breath drawn from their lips disturbed the draping cobwebs above them, which drooped down and clung to their shoulders in thick white masses. The three came to the doors and Jill waited for Joseph to continue first. Nodding reluctantly, Joseph did as he had been silently ordered, and moved to opened the doors.

They quietly opened, a gentle clicking clunk of the lock being turned as Joseph pushed the doors open. Inside it was musty and hot. Jill and Rebecca entered behind Joseph and closed the doors. The room was dark, smothered by cob webs and dust. To their left was a railing overlooking what seemed to be a kind of recreational area with a bar and tables. There was another balcony across from the one the three stood on, and upon it were pool tables, the multicolored balls still littering the green.  
"Well," came Jill's hurried voice behind Joseph, "This isn't where we want to be, let's go. We need to find the garage."

"Wait…" Joseph cut in desperately as he turned around, "Let's see if there's a phone that would ring back to the mansion. Maybe we can call and…and…"

His voice dropped and tripped over his lips, his shoulders tensed, and his eyes rose to the rafters above Jill and Rebecca. Long, spindly hairy legs felt their way down from the ceiling against the wall, slowly trickling down a hairy body. Two more bristly legs, groping along the walls, two more and two more, convulsing and feeling about as they grew closer.

"Run!" screamed Joseph raising the shotgun.

Immediately Jill grabbed Rebecca and dropped just as the monstrosity leapt and Joseph fired an echoing shot as the eight-legged shadow tackled him. He felt it, the hairy legs twitching and touching for the sweet seduction of flesh, the wet fangs jittering as they drew close to him; the dozen black, lifeless eyes staring down their meal. Joseph screamed and fired again, the shotgun blast spilling the rotting abdomen's innards all over Joseph and the floor. Joseph scrambled and shook away, standing in horrification at the ooze that stained his chest. From the abdomen of the spider came its tiny, crawling maggot young, the mother spider screeching and hissing in pain as its young began to eat it. Joseph rose the shotgun, pointed directly at the skull, and said, "This is my boomstick, you bitch."

Another echoing roar from the shotgun, and nothing could be heard but the quiet crunching as the baby spiders ate their mother. After a moment Jill said, "This is my boomstick?"

"Okay, well I felt obligated to say something witty, you know, because…it called for it."

Jill was about to respond but a low hiss sounded above them. More of them.

"Come on!" Jill turned towards the door they had come in and screamed as another descended, staring at her blankly.

Joseph blasted the shotgun again and again until the monster dropped to the floor, its massive legs curling up about its shriveling body. Jill kicked the door open and the three ran through. Behind them came the scuttling, the dropping thuds as the ravenous arachnids began the hunt from above.

000

"Now now, Leon. Let's not jump to conclusions," Wesker took a step closer to Leon, "You have no idea the benefactor in this predicament. You could be a _god_, Leon, and unstoppable god. You would be respected, feared."

"No…"

"Yes! You will not defy me, Leon! I am your master now!" and suddenly Wesker lunged and grabbed Leon by the throat.

He was too fast and too strong, Leon had no power to react as he was flipped up and over and thrown down upon his back. Then Wesker was dragging Leon, dragging him away from the mint green glow into darkness. Suddenly he was lifted and slammed down upon a table. Quickly Barry and Wesker strapped his legs and arms down, and Leon screamed in rage as he tried to object. A brilliant light was illuminated above him, and it hovered down upon Leon. He was in an surgery room.

"Relax, Leon," said Wesker as he hovered over him, stroking his hair, "First I'm going to administer the antidote for your bite. You've been infected and I can't have my perfect specimen turning into a wasted zombie."

"Wesker! No-!" Leon screamed.

He watched as Wesker opened a silver briefcase he had with him, watching him withdraw a glass tube filled with a glowing blue liquid. It was a syringe needle. He struggled in vein, watching the needle come closer. And then- it pricked his arm He could feel it, He could feel the ice cold liquid as it seeped into his body and began to mend his wounds. He watched Wesker return to the briefcase, and remove another syringe, filled with purple fluid. The T-virus…oh shit no no no. Leon stared at the needle getting closer, closer…

"Wesker…NO!" but the needle dug into his neck, and Leon felt the liquid begin to seep into his veins.

No…he couldn't be infected. And then a figure roared behind Wesker, and a massive array of blood blossomed into the air as something hard collided with Wesker's skull. The madman screamed as he fell to the floor, and Leon felt relief fall with the needle from his neck. The figure slammed the weapon down upon Wesker again and again, and Leon could hear the meaty crunches and smacks of a body being pulverized. Then suddenly the figure loomed upon Leon, and it was Chris Redfield.

"Just relax, buddy. I'm getting you out of here," he said, a bloody crowbar in one hand.

Leon watched Chris raise his eyes to Barry, who looked utterly broken.

"Barry…not you too," Chris said as he rose the crowbar in defense."I'm sorry, Chris," Barry said, his voice breaking in fear, "The man overpowered me. He told me he'd kill my family…he'd kill them, he said it. I swear, Chris…"

"It's true Chris," Leon said between gasps of air, "Wesker forced him to do all this."

Chris nodded, he believed Barry without Leon's input. Leon was unbuckled and he sat up, rubbing the penetration point on his neck. It burned strangely. Some of the virus was inside him, would that mean he'd become a horrible monster? Screw it, he didn't want to think about it now.

"Leon…" said Barry as Chris went to check Wesker's pulse, "I-I'm so sorry…"

Leon, still trembling, patted Barry on the arm and said, "It's all right. No one's going to hurt your family. It will all be okay."

Barry could only nod, the trauma keeping its shackles tight about him.

"Wesker's dead," Chris replied as he stood from the crumpled body, "Son of a bitch, I never saw it coming."

"Chris, Barry shot him in the head. I think he was dead to begin with," Leon said solemnly.

"Well if he gets up after this, we're all fucked."

Leon noticed Chris was limping, and then he noticed the blood. Chris had been attacked, and brutally. Lacerations and puncture wounds were scattered over his entire body.

"Chris…" Barry said, he'd noticed it too.

"I know, you guys, I know. But I've got no choice but to live with it."

"You can't live with it, Chris. You've been infected," Leon cut in, "We need to get you treated with the antidote."

"I know, I know all about the infection, and the T-virus or whatever. But I've got no choice, we've got no time to find the cure."

Leon went to search the briefcase Wesker had held while Barry explained, his disturbed voice shaken by worry, "Wesker had the cure, he gave Leon a dose. There's got to be more of it. We don't want you becoming one of them."

"One of them?"

"You haven't noticed the zombies, the wild dogs, or whatever the hell that thing is?" Barry suddenly lashed out, throwing his index finger at the green tank-

Leon knelt down and examined the chrome briefcase. It was filled with papers and manilla folders. A smaller chrome box was inside, it must be the containers for the T-virus and the antidotes-

Chris was urgent, "So there's still an antidote left?"

"Yes, Chris. Now just give us a minute so we can give you the shot."

"No-"

A small, gentle ticking sound silenced them all. Tap tap tapping, that echoed throughout the entire room. Leon froze from his rummaging through the briefcase, looking up at the glowing tank before him. Through the thick fluid, he saw a black silhouetted claw tap, tap against the glass then disappear into the liquid. Again it tapped, and again it disappeared. Leon turned his gaze towards a blood trail that slid along the floor and away into the shadows of the laboratory. Wesker was gone. Leon then turned to the computer screen on the controls and saw the words _"Revival Complete, Awake" _flashing again and again in brilliant red letters.

The Tyrant Project was alive. And suddenly a thick, meaty fist was thrown through the glass. The entire tank shattered and the green, warm fluid lurched forth.

"Leon get back!" Chris yelled as he grabbed the crowbar.

Leon had no time to grab the chrome briefcase before he was forced to leap back, the monstrosity lashing at him with its massive claws, stepping forth from the shattered remains of the tank. It showed the distinct features that it had once been human, but no longer was it so. A lipless face, wild stained teeth in a maniacal grin, white eyes glaring at its prey. Its skin was deathly blue, its black veins pumping through the cold flesh. It was massive, nearly twice the size of the men. One arm looked relatively normal, but the other…masses of black meaty muscle pumped and pulsated by seeping and stretching veins that darted across exposed bone and tissue. The massive hand was webbed and long claws protruded from the flesh. It's chest looked as though it turned inside out, the organs and muscle visible in a pallet of burgundy, black, blue, and crimson. It wasn't anything, it was a horrific demon spawned from a madman's sinister thoughts. It breathed heavily, it's heart and lungs pumping, expanding and beating together. Slowly it began ripping every tube and cord plugged into its body, trying to get free. Despite the thud of its heart and the deep breaths, the beast was silent. It was patient as though it felt no rush to kill them.

"Run!" Chris yelled suddenly, pushing Leon back to where Barry was standing, "Get out of here! Go!"

"No! Chris!" Barry bellowed, "Come on!"

"Go Barry. Go now! Take Leon to the others!"

Reluctantly, Barry grabbed Leon by the shirt collar and the two ran. Chris watched them disappear into the shadows of the back room before he turned back towards the Tyrant as it pulled the last tube free from its wrist. The Tyrant pulled the tube away from the gaping hole and dropped it to the ground. The tiny clinking sound it made was like an explosion, igniting Chris' fear and adrenaline. Squeezing the crowbar, Chris whispered, "Come on, you test tube freak."

Barry and Leon scrambled about the massive array of laboratories. Some of the rooms contained simply operating tables or computer storage systems. Others however, were lined with large tnaks similar to the one the "Tyrant Project" had emerged from, each tank like an ungodly showcase.

"Barry!" Leon yelled, "Where are we going?"

"This way! Just trust me!" Barry called back.

Trust him. Leon was so damn confused he thought he might as well. Everyone was switching roles, and his head…Jesus. His head felt as though it would rupture at any moment. Everything was illuminated by slowly flickering and buzzing fluorescent lights, their power waning. Leon and Barry had been traveling down a hallway smeared with blood along its metallic walls and floor when suddenly red lights began to flare on and off. A horrible squawking alarm began to sound, filled with a soothing female voice behind it that said simply, _"The self destruct sequence has been activated. This sequence cannot be aborted. All personnel must evacuate immediately. The self destruct sequence has been activated. This sequence cannot be aborted. All personnel must evacuate immediately…"_

"What-"

"It's Wesker," Barry cut Leon's inquiry short, "He must be trying to destroy all of the evidence. Come on."

They continued down the hall, the resonating clamor driving Leon's splitting headache to pierce at what he thought was his goddamn sanity. Questions drove through his head. Where were his companions? Were they all right? Joseph didn't do anything stupid, did he? Where was Wesker? Was he watching them or following them? How much time did they have before the self destruct went out? Self destruct, Jesus it was like a cheesy sci-fi horror with a grand finale bang. Literally.

Barry reached for a door on the right and broke into it, Leon following closely as his panic swelled. They were in a large laboratory, similar to the ones previous. The minted green glow of tanks conflicted with the red flare of the alarms as Leon and Barry ran past the aisles of computers and tables. Leon noticed several tanks withholding nightmarish creatures with long, crooked claws and beady yellow eyes. They had not skin but scales, and they stood tall and hunched. "The Hunter Program" read a sign that hung above the three tanks.

"There!" Barry pointed ahead, "That ladder! That leads down to the boiler rooms and electrical rooms. We can take that as a shorter route and go back to the mansion. Come on."

"How will we get the hell out of here?"

"We can meet with the others at a second residence, it's not far form the mansion. They have vehicles there, but we have to move."

The ladder protruded from an open square hole in the floor, steam rising from its open mouth. Barry leapt into the hole, wasting little time as he slid down the rims of the ladder. Leon knew Barry's need for rush, he knew the only thought that embraced Barry's mind was getting to his family. Leon hesitated, looking down into the steam and red flashing lights below. As if he had any choice. Leon leapt down after Barry. He slid on the sides of the ladder, his boots scraping against it tightly as he felt hot air rush up from beneath him.

His feet collided with a catwalk, and he stumbled away from the ladder. Looking around, he saw that the catwalk disappeared into the fumes and steam of a massive boiler room. Surrounding the catwalk were massive tanks, fuming systems and intricate mechanics. Below him there was a shallow pool of water, steam rising from it's apparently scalding surface. Above him pipes ran in a maze along the ceiling. Steam billowed thickly throughout the room, rendering his vision nearly useless. He could only hear the hissing of the boilers, the flashing alarms, the female's warning voice, and the trickling and steaming of hot water. Everything was illuminated by the brilliant red lights. Everything was red. Leon looked down the catwalk away from the ladder, but he could not find Barry. He turned to look behind the ladder to see a dark alcove covered in steam so that he couldn't see anything inside.

"Barry?" Leon asked, silently drawing his combat knife from the sheath along his belt.

Suddenly he heard something above the array of noises. A tiny clank from the alcove, how he heard it over the clatter he didn't know. Leon stared into the shadows as two red eyes began to glow from within the blackness.

"Welcome to my domain, Leon Scott Kennedy," came the smooth, deep voice of Albert Wesker, "Heat and mechanical red that devour everything. Fire intermixed with the smell of chemicals and science."

He emerged from the alcove, holding Barry tightly by his throat, his other hand digging into the man's spine.

"Hell," Albert continued as he tightened his grip upon Barry's back, "Hell is my domain, and I am so glad you could feel the breath of Satan as I stand now before you."

Suddenly he hurled Barry at Leon who barely managed to catch the lumbering giant. Barry grunted sharply upon the impact, but Leon held him upright.

"Barry, are you all right?"

"Ow…yea. Yea I'm fine."

"Barry," Leon said, breaking from his firm gaze at Wesker to stare at his friend, "Get out of here. Get to Joseph and the others and I'll meet you there. I've got to stop Wesker so he can't stop us."

Barry turned back towards Wesker a moment, stepping beside Leon to face those sinister, red eyes.

"He hurt my family," Barry snarled, turning around to Wesker, "he murdered my daughter…"

"Barry…Barry no!"

Barry grabbed a crowbar that hung from the railing and Barry lunged forth to strike at Wesker who easily sidestepped and grabbed Barry. Wesker twisted Barry's wrist, forcing the crowbar free from his massive hand. He then picked up the massiveBarrywho was grabbing furiously at Wesker's collar and kicking him. In the midst of their struggle, Wesker's phone was knocked from his belt and slid along the catwalk to Leon's feet. Leon looked up to see Barry thrown into the air. Leon rose his hands and caught the large man, the both of them collapsing against the catwalk. Leon helped Barry up, and Barry was on the verge of striking again when suddenly he heard something. It was coming from the phone that Wesker had dropped, and he picked it up, staring at it. Footsteps, a sudden scream, and then a gunshot that silenced everything. Barry shook his head in disbelief, but then he heard it again. Footsteps, a sudden scream, and a gunshot. And again it played over, and again. It was a recorded message.

"So you see, Barry?" asked Wesker with a cackle, "I really don't have all that man power. Haha, you fool. Did you honestly think I could send a team of soldiers to assassinate your family? It was a hoax!"

Barry stepped forth again, but Leon managed to grab him and hold him back.

"No Barry!" Leon said, "Just go, you can't face him, you're wounded."

Barry acknowledged the gunshot hole in his arm.

"Okay," he murmured in distinct reluctance, "Will you be all right?"

"Yes. Go."

"Okay, I'll get the others. Meet us in the front hall, "Barry hesitated, staring gruffly at Wesker in a gnarled vengeance before whispering, "Kick his ass."

He then jogged off down the catwalk that veered right around the boilers. Leon made sure Barry's escape was uninterrupted before turning back to face Wesker.

"So," Wesker said, "You're aware of what you become."

"I'm aware of what you did to me," Leon said as he held his combat knife tightly.

Wesker began to walk forward, "Then I hope you realize that you are eternally mine."

Wesker stopped inches from Leon's face, staring down upon Leon's figure. The two stared at one another, nothing but the loud hiss reverberating around them. Leon suddenly drove the knife into Wesker's sternum, feeling triumph as Wesker choked and coughed, lurching back. He coughed and hacked, gasping as slowly his chokes became stutters, his coughing mutating into laughter.

"You goddamn fool! After all this you still believe that a miniscule knife can slay me? They never really help anyone here, you should know that," he said as he tore the dagger free from his ribs and tossed it away.

Leon shook his head and charged, Wesker waiting patiently as Leon sprinted closer and closer before suddenly leaping in the air to drive a kick into his opponent. But Wesker spun around, grabbing Leon's outcast leg and driving him to the floor. Leon flipped to his back with his free foot and drove his boot into Wesker's jaw, feeling it crack beneath the blow. He was freed and he stood to meet Wesker's grip to his throat. The two backed into the ladder, and Wesker brought his face in close as Leon struggled for air.

"Good," Wesker snarled, "Can't you feel the virus inside you? Infecting you? Growing and prospering upon your weaker cells to give you the power that only titans could possess?"

Leon gasped, wincing in pain as though Wesker's words triggered the surging pain to burst in his chest. He was becoming a monster.

"Yes…you are mine."

And with that Wesker flipped Leon over the edge of the railing into the water below.

000

There was an immense shatter as Chris was thrown screaming through one of the mint green tanks. He felt the splash of the lukewarm chemical as he broke through the glass, landing and sliding along the metallic floor. He choked and gasped in his own blood, submerged in broken glass and fluid. Again he heard it, the relentless thump thumping of heavy feet that walked towards him. He could not escape them, he could not get up as they thumped closer. They never stopped, they never thought once to end his torture. Chris looked up to see the Tyrant's massive hand reach for him yet again. He was lifted from the ground and brought to meet the monstrosity's gaze. The bleak white eyes, massive fangs in a maniacal smile, the heavy breath that smelled of formaldehyde.

Chris stared back, subdued in pain as he muttered, "Wesker calls you the strongest creature in the world, and you can't even kill me."

The Tyrant Project sneered, grunting before it threw Chris yet again. He felt his stomach lurch as his body was hurled into an operating table in the giant lab. He slumped to the floor and felt random objects as they were knocked from shelves around him, everything clattering over his body as he crumpled to the floor. He lay there, listening to the beating footsteps come again. He couldn't take the pain anymore, his entire body felt as though it was torn by slowly rusting poisons. Every bit of him stung and ached and throbbed. He was going to die.

"I can't give up," he murmured to himself, "I have to think of everyone, I can't let this thing go after them. I can't let it go near Jill…"

Sluggishly, Chris felt a gentle prick in his thigh, and he turned to see several syringe needles filled with that strange purplish fluid. The T-virus, the contents that Wesker had in the briefcase. Chris turned his gaze from the poison back to the approaching Tyrant. He couldn't let the Tyrant get out, and he couldn't let the T-virus get out either. Jill, do it for Jill…

Grabbing the three needles he could reach, Chris sat up on his knees. The Tyrant stopped abruptly, looking down at him in curiosity as to what he was doing.

"Better prepare yourself, asshole," Chris growled, and suddenly drove all three needles into his gut, feeling the liquid wash into his organs.

His entire body began to convulse, his veins bulged as he lurched and felt nausea choke him. His eyes saw only scarlet, his mouth tasted only blood as his muscles mutated and burst. The Tyrant snarled, and rose its fist to crush him in one final blow, but suddenly was stopped as Chris lunged forth into its stomach. The Tyrant stumbled back as Chris rose to his feet, his eyes beginning to glow red.

The Tyrant snarled and jerked his chin, acknowledging his prey's sudden worthiness. He was, in fact, no longer prey, but an adversary. And the Tyrant hated adversaries. It suddenly burst into a sprint, flying towards Chris with its muscled claws readied. Chris leapt at the monster, sailing just over the claws and bringing the Tyrant into the floor with an echoing crash. The Tyrant kicked, and Chris was flung away, smacking against the wall. But he didn't care, he no longer felt the agony of pain as he rose to his feet and groped for a pipe that had been torn loose from the ceiling. The Tyrant pounded forth again, claws outstretched. Chris met it with the pipe, dodging the claws again and driving the jagged end of the pipe into the beast's stomach, skewering the bastard. He twisted the pipe around, flinging the Tyrant upon the floor. Tearing the pipe loose, Chris rose it again to strike but was kicked away yet again, thrown into a row of chrome canisters. Stumbling to his feet, Chris looked behind him as he heard the forthcoming footsteps. He didn't need to read the words as he saw the symbol representing highly flammable. Grabbing the container, he turned to meet the Tyrant's face with a heavy blow. The end of the canister was knocked loose, and immediately the unknown fluid began spewing forth. Chris hurled it forth into the Tyrant who caught it, its maniacal grin stained with blood as it began to rise the tank in a returning blow.

But Chris reached into his pocket and pulled out the Zippo lighter, flicking open the top with a clink. The Tyrant's eyes went wide as Chris pulled down upon the flint. A spark flickered out, and everything ignited in flames.

000

Joseph blew every round he could upon the onslaught of the spiders as he and the girls pounded down a set of cement stairs. Somehow they had managed to find a sublevel to the second residence, leading to the garage. The spiders were relentless, and when they could not chase their prey then their masses of children spewed forth from their dying bodies and followed. At the bottom of a second set of stairs were two metal doors. Joseph stumbled down into them after Jill and Rebecca, Jill slamming them shut as he passed through.

"Lock it!" demanded Joseph.

"I can't!" she replied.

"Here," he slid the shotgun through the metal handles of the doors as a temporary brace, "I'm outta fucking shells anyways."

The three watched for a moment as the spiders rattled and raged at the doors.

"Come on," said Joseph, and as he turned his jaw dropped in a heavy sigh of failure as he said simply, "Oh shit."

And immense parking garage lay before them, lit with fluorescent lights that quietly hummed against the dull gray of the cement. However the parking garage was completely deserted, all except for one vehicle. A piece of shit minivan.

"Wha-what…" Joseph stuttered, "What is that!"

"Come on Joseph," said Jill as she and Rebecca began to approach the vehicle.

"What the hell is that! The hugest fucking estate in Pennsylvania, and these bastards can't even afford a decent issue of goddamned transportation! It's a _minivan _for Chrissake!"

"Come on, Joseph."

"God dammit."

Jill opened the driver's door, and began looking for keys. Joseph threw open the sliding back door to look inside just in case any of those spiders were doing some unwanted business in the back.

"Joseph, there's no keys," Jill said in frustration, "Check that control room over there. It may have them."

Joseph turned to see a small cement box with tinted windows, not much bigger then the size of a toll booth. He approached the door and kicked it open hurriedly, jumping inside the dim light to find a corpse torn to pieces, baby spiders crawling in and out of his eye sockets and the other orifices that lay in black and crimson upon his body. A wall lined with keys was on the left aside a cluttered desk and a monitor screen and a computer. The monitor screen was for a camera, what looked to be just outside the massive garage doors. Joseph looked out the window towards the two doors, he could get them open by a switch in this room, probably. But first the keys. Joseph turned back to the wall with the key hooks and…oh god dammit.

"Uh Jill…there are hundreds of keys…"

"Dammit!" Jill hissed.

Rebecca, meanwhile, was standing quietly off to the side of the van when she noticed something strange. The license plate tag of the black minivan had only the number "06" on it. She thought it was strange, but said, "Joseph! The license plate number only says 06. Look for the number 06!"

Joseph turned back towards the wall of keys, dragging his finger along the lines of all the keys.

"O6...06...06...got it!" he said as he snatched the key and its tag off of the wall, "Let's go!"

He looked for the button that might open one of the garage doors, and smiled at the simplicity as he found it. He slammed his fist down on it in triumph as he heard the mechanical groan of the garage beginning to open. Bringing his proud gaze around to the door, he caught a brief glimpse of the monitor screen, and his pride began to melt and seep away. He just barely saw the tiny image of a black and white Barry slip under the opening garage door. His oozing pride suddenly ignited in a fire of revenge, and he rushed from the room to face Barry.

Rebecca was in the car, and Jill beside it as Barry approached them in a subsiding manner.

"Jill…" Barry said, "Please listen to me-"

"Get back, Barry," said Jill warily, "Get back!"

"No I've got a better idea then that," said Joseph suddenly behind Barry.

He violently brought his elbow into Barry's temple and knocked him to the ground.

"How about you tell me where the fuck my friend is, and what you did to him! If not, I'll just fuck you up some more. Now how's that sound?" Joseph snarled, stepping on Barry's throat.

"Joseph! Joseph don't-" Barry choked, struggling for air, "Wesker made me do it! Please! You don't have much time! Joseph you know me! You know I wouldn't do something like this!"

Jill watched, tears forming in her eyes. Could they trust Barry? She'd known him for so long. But after what he'd done to Leon…

"I thought I knew you, you mother _fucker_! But I don't, and now I don't have to. Tell me where Leon is, and I'll break your neck real quick," he began to twist his boot.  
"_Agh! _Joseph don't! Please! _My family!_"

"One last chance!"

"Joseph! Please! I'm your friend!" Barry wheezed.

"Leon's my friend, you fuck hole," Joseph spat, and he rose his foot, holding it above Barry's head, before furiously driving it down.

"Joseph no!" Jill screamed, and pushed Joseph away, his toe just barely scraping Barry's nose.

Joseph fell back, bewildered at what Jill had done. He sat up to see Jill help Barry up. Oh shit, no he's going to kill her! He's moving to get her in the sleeper hold! Oh wait no no, he was just hugging her. He…he was crying.

"Jill…" whimpered the big teddy bear, "He forced me too…he said he'd kill my family. I-I'm so sorry…I betrayed everyone. Leon and Chris are still down there, their fighting Wesker and some monster…I betrayed them…"

"Shh, it's okay, Barry. it's okay," Jill said, "Come on, we're getting out of here."

"Wait a minute, Jill! What are you doing? What about Leon?" Joseph exclaimed in rage.

"Joseph…" Jill turned, "We can't. We have no defense…"

"No, Jill," Barry broke in, "We're going back to find him. He's in the main mansion, in the labs in the back. We have to go and meet him at the front doors of the mansion. I told him we would."

Jill looked at the two of them, amazed that men could be defying her. She was their commanding officer. She ranked higher then both of them.

"Jill…" Joseph pleaded.

Oh well, they still were too macho, "All right, but we have to hurry. Joseph, you're driving."

"Damn right, I am," Joseph said as he hopped around to the other side of the van, Jill sitting in the passenger seat. Barry climbed in back beside Rebecca.

Joseph was about to open the driver's side door when suddenly he heard something. A squeaking, squelching sound followed by a metallic scrape.

Joseph turned to see a single zombie at the garage door, its contorted wet legs and feet stumbling forth as they squeaked upon the ground. It dragged a bloody axe behind it, moaning softly through its wet mangled hair. Suddenly a chorus of moans and grunts went up as from out of the shadows of the forest outside the garage door came the figures of the dead.

"Oh shit," he murmured, staring down their scarlet-splattered faces, their mangled and twisted bodies in heaps of flesh and rags.

"Joseph! Drive!" Jill screamed, and Joseph hopped in the car as the mob of zombies rushed the minivan.

He brought the engine to life, cranked the stick back into Drive and slammed his foot on the gas. The wheels screamed against the pavement, and the van took off in a blossoming burst of crimson blood that sprayed everywhere at the collision of the zombies' bodies with the grill of the van. They slammed into the sides, the hood, the car, each body painting the windows of the van with blood as they were crushed and smothered into gushing pieces of rotted meat by the tires. Suddenly Jill felt the glass to her left crack as a fist was thrown into it. She screamed as again the fist thrust forth and broke through. Long finger nails scratched at her face and groped for her throat, but she stuck her survival knife deep into the attacker's skull.

In an eruption of blood and rotted innards, the van burst free of the garage and tore off down the road towards the mansion, the mob of zombies trailing behind them.


	11. Ch 11: Final Reckoning

The final chapter. There are actually two chapters in here but the second was so short i just made them both into one edition.

* * *

Chapter Eleven

Leon spun around in the steam, sopping wet as he stood knee deep in the hot water of the boiler room. His eyes looked around desperately, his heart pounding in his chest as he felt the virus inside him slowly grow stronger and stronger.

"Come out, Wesker!" he shouted, "Come on! Don't you want your specimen!"

"Yes…" came a voice from everywhere, "But I want to test you first."

Suddenly a flying blur came splashing from behind Leon and knocked him violently into the air, his body twirling around before falling to the ground. Leon flipped himself back to his feet to meet another sudden blow to his jaw. He fell to his hands and knees, feeling the heat and his blood merge together in his mouth, making his breath gasp and wheeze.

"What's the matter, Leon? You're supposed to be invincible. Live up to your rank. You were unstoppable enough as a mortal, now as a god you kneel before me?"

Suddenly from out the steam Wesker came again, nothing but a black phantom as he kicked Leon in his ribs. Leon yelled in agony as he was thrown to his staggering feet. Wesker laughed from everywhere around Leon. Leon was horrified, waiting in a ceaselessly torturing anticipation for when the next blow would occur, when another reign of agony would fall upon him. He had to relax, he had to focus. Calming himself, he felt something he had never felt before. A stinging feeling that asked for his attention, bringing him awareness of everything around him. It was as though he could feel the boiler room, he could feel the water, the beams supporting the catwalk above, and Wesker as he crouched down in the steam. Leon had him now, almost as though he could sense Wesker's presence, and he waited patiently. Suddenly Wesker charged from the steam, and Leon retaliated as he threw out his fist. A resonating snap sounded out as Leon clothes-lined Wesker in the chin, flipping the man's body into the air. Leon brought his fist up and down upon Wesker's body in mid-flight, crushing him down into the water. Wesker kicked Leon and quickly scrambled away.

"Good," he breathed in exhaustion, standing, "Good, you're letting the virus help you. You're learning."

Wesker again charged, a fist towards Leon, but Leon was took quick as he hooked elbows with Wesker and flipped him over and onto his back, twisting his elbow around and snapping it. Wesker screamed and twisted his entire body around, throwing an array of splashes up in the water as he tripped Leon to again escape. Leon took the opportunity to leap back up to the railing of the catwalk and climb back on.

"My god! You've become incredible," Wesker said in panting astonishment as he looked at Leon from below, "Perhaps too incredible. It's time now that I tame you, Leon. Give in."

"Give it up, Wesker," Leon said, "Just forget it."

"No," Wesker snarled, "You're _mine_."

Suddenly Wesker soared into the air, rising high over the catwalk and above Leon. Wesker bellowed as he came down, driving his foot into Leon's head. Leon's skull was smashed down into the metal floor. But he threw his fist into the back of Wesker's knee, freeing himself to bring Wesker's head into one of the support beams for the catwalk. The impact left a dent as the two struggled and fought through the steam, along the catwalk. Wesker kicked Leon, twisting him around to face away, and Wesker took the opportunity to grab Leon's hand and hold him tightly from behind, his fingers grabbing for Leon's spine.

"Give in to me, Leon," Wesker snarled through perspiration and blood, "You cannot escape me, no matter what you do. I am your creator now, I am the only other being in your life."

He pressed Leon up against the railing, leaning him over to touch his face to the scalding hot metal of one of the boilers.

"Obey me or burn, Leon."

Leon looked about frantically, looking for something to free himself with. Then suddenly he saw it. The crowbar Barry had held. In a last attempt of desperation he suddenly slipped under Wesker's grasp, and Wesker fell against the burning boiler pot. Wesker screamed in pain as Leon rolled and scooped up the crow bar, turning to face his opponent. Wesker's entire left face and hands were burned and singed black, the hot smell of burning flesh fuming from his furious expression.

He stumbled, and screamed at Leon, "You fool! I'm going to destroy you!"

Wesker snarled and leapt at Leon but Leon ducked and drove the crow bar into his heart. In a spray of blood the crow bar burst out of Wesker's back, and he dropped to his knees. Wesker looked at Leon in horror, his jaw quivering as he stuttered, "Y-you you've beaten me? I am you creator…"

Leon slowly twisted the crow bar around before ripping it free, blood spewing from Wesker's broken heart. Wesker kneeled there, his breath in gurgles as blood filled his lungs and trickled from his eyes.

"Know this, Leon Kennedy…" Wesker muttered, "While you may have evaded my grasp, they will _never _stop hunting you. You cannot escape Umbrella…not even in death."

Leon rose the crowbar once more and said, "Then I won't stop hunting them."

Wesker stared up at his beautiful creation in awe, the Perfect Soldier was finally created, and he had to let it go. He closed his crimson eyes, and bowed his head in acceptance of his death. Leon swung the crowbar down upon his skull, tearing Wesker's head from his neck. Leon watched Wesker's headless body slump lifelessly to the ground, his head rolling to Leon's feet. Raising the crowbar once more, Leon came down upon the skull and smothered it for good. This nightmare wasn't coming back to haunt him.

Leon wiped the blood from his mouth and shook his head. Suddenly the female's voice over the monitor changed, and came on saying only, _"Four minutes to detonation. Four minutes to detonation…"_

Leon jumped and pumped his legs for the ladder at the other end of the catwalk, hoping to god Barry had been able to convince the others to find him. He knew if not, then Joseph certainly would. He hoped…

000

Chris screamed as he and the Tyrant locked hands amidst the roaring fires. His skin turned black and purple, he could feel his bones building and forming, his muscles popping and bursting as they grew bigger and bigger. He twisted around and kicked the Tyrant down, the two breaking through glass and metal. He felt the Tyrant's claw upon his face as his skull was smashed again and again into the wall, the two grappling and roaring as angered gods amidst the fires of a biologically engineered hell.

_"Three minutes to detonation…"_

Joseph swerved the van around the gravel road that led through the dark woods towards the mansion. God dammit, Leon be there. Behind him he could hear the roaring chants of the zombies as they chased after the van, nearly every one of them running now. Why had they gotten back up when he'd flattened them like that? He'd think the fuckers would have enough sense to not come back at all, or at least die for good the second time. But now they ran like goddamn berserkers or something, their dark crimsoned heads glistened with blood in the moonlight. They were nearly as fast as the van.

"Faster Joseph!" cried Rebecca as she peered out the window in horror at the gaining monsters.

"God dammit! What do I look like to you! Super soccer mom! It's a minivan for Chrissake! A fucking minivan!"

Anything else he could maneuver with grace and dignity, this was like scooting a fat ass twinkie across sand. Any faster and it'd probably fall to pieces. He swerved again, thrashing the tail of the van into several approaching zombies, crushing them as the van jerked up and down from going over their ragged bodies. Blood and bits of flesh slopped against the windshield, and he flicked on the wipers to clean it off. Suddenly from around a corner in the road he could see lights. The lights of the mansion, and he began laying on the horn. Just be there…

000

Leon burst out into the dining hall from the halls of the abandoned mansion, feeling a distinct regret that he had been left behind. Suddenly he heard the wimpiest honk in the world, the honk of a car. Running to the windows of the dining hall, Leon saw the unsteady lights of a car. A minivan? No, couldn't be. He knew it was the others, and he had to get to them.

_"One minute to detonation…"_

"I hate you, I hate you…" he mumbled as he pumped his legs down the dining hall towards the main hall.

Bursting through the doors, he stumbled to see a group of half a dozen zombies staring him down. But they didn't look like normal zombies, if any sort of zombie could look normal. They hunched over, snarling and sniffing at him as they readied to strike. They blocked his way to the front doors, he couldn't get out to the van. _Upstairs_. He turned and burst for the stairs in the center of the room, just in time to hear the zombies fly after him, the thundering of their bloody feet pumping towards him. He reached the upper balcony just in time to feel the hot breath of the zombies as one grabbed him from behind. In a twisting jerk he launched it over the railing, running closer and closer to the rows of windows at the face of the mansion.

_"Twenty-five seconds to detonation…"_

Not gonna make it, gonna die. Leon leapt into the glass, shielding his face and neck as he burst through, feeling the shards cut into him as he soared out into the cold night's air, the zombies falling after him. He felt his stomach fly up into his lungs and his heart stop as he fell. He flipped, landed upon his feet, and rolled again, tumbling to stand on his feet. Where was the van where was the goddamn van! Oh Jesus, it was way over on the other side of the lawn.

_"Ten seconds to detonation…"_

The roars and cries of an entire mob of zombies entered Leon's ears, and he looked to see them charge at their new prey: him.

"Oh shit…"

"Leon!" came Joseph's cry from beneath the pathetic squeal of the minivan's engine, "Here we come!"

The van swerved upon the gravel road around the edge of a large fountain, flying towards him as its side doors opened.

_"Nine…………Eight…………"_

"Come on, Leon! You can make it! Run!"

Leon pumped after the van, just barely missing the hands of his companions as they drove past.

"Slow down!"

_"Seven…………Six…………"_

The back hatch opened. The roars of the monsters became indefinitely loud as he could feel their hot breath panting behind him.

_"Five…"_

"Come on Leon!" cried Rebecca from the back hatch, she and Barry reaching out for Leon.

_"Four…"_

Leon pumped his legs harder, reaching out for them, and suddenly he felt himself dive. Into the clinging arms of his friends he fell into the van, Barry closing the hatch and Jill yelling, "Joseph we have him! Move!"

"Three…………Two…………One………"

The van lurched forward as an earsplitting explosion erupted from behind them, just as it reached the edge of the lawn, flying past the open gates of the estate. Behind them Leon watched as the entire front lawn was pummeled with debris, crushing every walking dead amongst its fiery breath. The explosion grew and grew, rising high into the air as it all went up in flames. They had made it, they were safe.

000

Chris and the Tyrant locked arms, both staring one another down as the countdown sounded out around them. Suddenly Chris twisted the monster and brought him to his knees.

"Die…" he murmured.

And the explosion enveloped them completely, and Chris felt the Tyrant's body incinerate in his grasp. He had succeeded. The others would be safe. Jill would be safe, and in a final exertion of strength he fell back into the flames.

Chapter Twelve

Leon sat slumped against the backseat between Barry and Rebecca. Everything was silent save for the gentle hum of the minivan's engine. They moved through the forest, a pink and blue sky peering through the treetops. The van rolled over a hill overlooking the vast green that was Raccoon Forest to reveal the most beautiful thing Leon had seen in a long time. Dawn. It's yellow warmth reached over the hills in a great embrace, shining down upon the van as it drove gently closer to the highway ahead. Leon stared the marveled beauty as slowly the pink clouds transcended with the yellow sunlight and baby blue shadows. Leon's gaze turned to his companions inside the van.

Rebecca lay quietly sleeping in her seat, her head gently leaning against the window. Leon smiled calmly as he looked at her, glad to see a hint of her sweet innocence had come back. He turned his gaze to Barry who sat cleaning his Colt Python magnum with a dirty rag. Barry noticed Leon's gaze and looked up to smile. Leon smiled back and patted Barry once on the shoulder. Leon then turned to Joseph who drove calmly now, surprisingly saying nothing. He placed his hand on Joseph's shoulder and whispered subtly, "Thanks, Joseph. I knew you'd come back for me."

Joseph could only smile and nod back. Leon turned to Jill who sat quietly, her eyes clung to by glossy tears, her hands in her lap. He felt so broken to see her like that, and gently he touched her arm. She turned to him suddenly, her fixation on nothing broken as she tried to smile. But he reached over and clasped her hand, whispering, "Jill…I'm sorry."

"Don't be…" she replied, trying to smile as she squeezed his hand back.

He looked at her for a moment, then said, "Why?"

She smiled wider and replied, "I know he's still out there. I'll see him again."

Leon smiled back, and suddenly felt the assurance that she did. He didn't know, but somehow he just felt that Chris wasn't gone.

"Yea," he said in all honesty, "We _will _see him again."

And so they drove off into the warm hands of the morning sun, at last free of the nightmare that slowly burnt in its own chaos. At last they were at peace.

Epilogue

Amidst the scorching, roaring teeth of the fire was the singed body of Lisa Trevor. She lay ragged and crumpled amidst the ruin, her skin smoldered and black; her wild eyes holding an empty gaze amongst the tangled dreads of her long, sinewy hair. Finally her tormented soul had been lifted from its brutally everlasting life. However, a creeping shadow still remained amidst the wreckage…

Coming forth from the wreckage, Jessica Trevor caught glimpse of her daughter's ravaged body. She whimpered in denial, in refusal of the withered corpse that lay before her eyes. She slumped to her daughter's side, Jessica's massive figure hovering over the fallen angel. Her bony tendrils curled about mother and daughter as Jessica whimpered. The long years…the desperately long years she had waited to see her daughter again. Jessica squeezed her arms about Lisa's body, holding her close. In agony she began to wail, her echoed screams swallowed by the roar of the immense fire.

Those who did this will pay.

* * *

And so the beginning has come to an end. But how long will the ending last? All I can say is I'm going to need a decent break before I begin the sequel, and when it does come I can only say one thing:

_"If the fear doesn't kill you, something else will..."_


End file.
